


The Stocks

by DevonShea



Series: Dragons and Knights [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Corporal Punishment, Fluff and Crack, Gen, aftermath of off-screen child rape in one chapter, aftermath of off-screen miscarriage in one chapter, many references to the Purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 51
Words: 47,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevonShea/pseuds/DevonShea
Summary: Short stories revolving around the theme of the stocks, which seem to be the Pendragons' favorite method of punishing people.  Some of them will be funny or sweet, while others will be more serious and angsty.  Not all of them will feature the main cast.  I seem to be building up my own cast of original characters who feel like popping in for their own say occasionally.  Warning tags are in the beginning notes of each chapter.This is tagged complete, but if I get the inspiration, I may add to it.  :D





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any triggers, I'll note them in the appropriate chapter notes.
> 
> Merlin isn't mine. *sob*

Set some time in Season 1

Getting stuck in the stocks could be a surprisingly useful way of learning things about the people in your town. While vainly dodging the turnips being flung at his head, Merlin caught a glimpse of Sir Leon stopping at Meg the Ribbonseller's booth and picking through her offerings, discarding ribbon after ribbon until he seemed to find the one he actually liked. He gave Meg an actual smile when he picked up the dainty green ribbon. Coins changed hands after a brief discussion and both parties parted content. Merlin watched the normally taciturn Sir Leon walk back toward the keep, smiling gently at the lacy, green ribbon in his hand before he tucked it into his belt pouch. Merlin wondered whose hair he would see it adorning after his current stint as the city's comic relief was over.

The mystery was solved at the next court feast. Merlin had to admit that the green ribbon twining through the braid of Sir Leon's mother's red hair set it off perfectly in the torchlight.


	2. Chapter Two

Set some time in Season 1

Uther really seemed to relish putting people in the stocks. As a punishment, it could have been much worse. At least his taste didn't run to lashes in the square. Merlin wasn't altogether sure he'd attempt to lie to Arthur's father if whips were involved. As it was, Merlin had become almost inured to the fact that people seemed to find glee in pelting him with fruit and vegetables. He had learned that it was usually just the same crew of miscreants that visited misery upon him and the other victims of this particular punishment. Jack, the brewer's son, favored onions as his weapon of choice. Morris, the youngest son of the leather tanner, liked to throw turnips.

Merlin had asked him once why he liked turnips so much and the boy had promptly turned up his nose and replied that he hated them and that they were only good for flinging at people. He would actually have been happy if they threw enough that none would ever grow again. Gaius had glanced up from his examination of one of Morris' many older brothers and asked what he would throw at Merlin then. Morris had looked Merlin over carefully, scratching his chin as his father was wont to do, and replied simply, "Cabbages. Definitely cabbages."

Cabbages were usually the province of the only girl who regularly visited the occupants of the stocks. Annie was the daughter of one of the chandlers. She was a petite, dainty-looking thing, whose aim would rival Arthur's. She could hit Merlin every time she threw. Merlin feared for her future husband. He certainly hoped the man would never risk her temper, because if she ever chose to throw something a little more lethal, the man didn't stand a chance.

The funniest thing was that Merlin had helped Gaius take care of every single one of the people that came to throw things at him on a regular basis. One would think that they would be less likely to use him as target practice as they would, say, Ranald. Ranald was in the stocks more than anyone else. It might have had something to do with his utter inability to hold both his drink and his temper at the same time. Gaius had told Merlin once that Ranald used to be one of the king's finest soldiers. He simply hadn't been the same after his time in service. But enough people remembered his service and courage that, even though his glory days were long past, they treated him with some respect and just let him stay in the taverns, mostly sleeping off his drunk from the night before.

The guards moved toward the stocks and shooed the kids off. Morris' oldest brother cuffed him on the ear when he tried to throw just one more turnip at Merlin. "Go home, you little heathen."

"I'm telling Ma!"

"Oh, really?" Nick asked his brother as he unlatched the stocks. "So you'll tell her you almost hit a Camelot guard with a turnip while he was going about his duties? You won't sit for a month." He helped Merlin stand straight. "While you're telling her all of that, tell her I'll be home for dinner tonight."

Morris stuck his tongue at his oldest brother and ran off while Nick just shook his head. "Spoiled rotten, that boy." He turned back to Merlin, "The prince wants you in his chambers as soon as you get cleaned up. Something about polishing armor and doing laundry and anything else he could think of." The guard grinned. "Sounds like your little break from work is over."

Merlin grimaced. "Thanks, Nick." The guard just kept grinning as he and his companion, a newer guard from the outlying farms whom Merlin still hadn't gotten to know jumped down from the low platform holding the stocks.

A quick visit to his chambers and an even quicker wash-up followed. Thankfully Gaius was still making his rounds. He took an inordinate amount of glee in seeing Merlin covered in nearly-edible debris. Merlin still hadn't figured out why. He supposed it had to do with the fact that Gaius kept telling him he had to be more modest and more circumspect about his magic use. Of course, this time Merlin hadn't even used his magic. He had just covered for Arthur when his annoying master wanted to go hunting (again) rather than train with his knights. At least this time Arthur had come back in one piece and hadn't run into any bandits. Really, hunting was the worst thing Arthur could ever do. Every time he did, he ran into trouble. Trouble that Merlin usually had to drag him out of without the prince even knowing.

Merlin straightened his neckerchief after his quick jaunt from Gaius' chambers to the prince's. He was only a bit out of breath. If Arthur was in a testy mood that meant he hadn't caught anything on his hunt and he wouldn't even have had the excuse of Merlin's tromping through the brush to blame. Maybe Uther had even called him on Merlin's lie. That would be absolutely wonderful, if completely improbable.

He opened the door carefully, poking his head around to judge where the prince was before he came in bounding. "Sire?" He called out when he didn't see Arthur right away. When he didn't receive an answer he walked to the table in the center of Arthur's chambers. A pile of armor sat on top of it. A note accompanied it.

"Clean this armor, idiot. When you're done, my laundry needs attending. There's a tear in the sleeve of my gambeson that you need to repair.

Merlin sighed. The armor itself would take a while. He might not get all of this done before dinner. Then again, after an hour being pelted by fruits and vegetables that had either turned or were close to it, he found he wasn't that hungry. He gathered up the armor and made his way to the armory. Better to just get it done with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we introduce some of the OCs that will wander in and out of these stories. This Morris is not the poor soul who was Arthur's previous servant. I inadvertantly used the name and have decided to stick with it.
> 
> I'm publishing these on Fridays on FFN, so I'll stick to the same schedule here once I get caught up with uploading the 34 chapters I already have there. Oh, so far there is no end in sight to these stories.


	3. Chapter Three

Set in Season 2 during the year Morgana is missing.

Another day in the stocks. Merlin was beginning to think he should just move his things there. Well, not really. He only ended up in the stocks about once a month, but it just felt like it happened more often. There was Morris standing with his turnips at the ready, a grin wreathing his round face. Jack sat on the barrels of mead that were being delivered to the knights' favorite tavern. He had been helping with the deliveries when the guards marched Merlin out to the platform that held the stocks, and had stuck around to catch the entertainment.

He stood up from the barrels and walked over to the baskets of ammunition that always seemed to be placed just on the edge of the courtyard. He perused his selection and carefully chose a few onions with which to flavor the Merlin stew that was about to happen. Jack was a rangy boy, tall and thin and promising to grow even taller and thinner. He took after his mother. His father was of the opposite build, short and stout from all the sampling of his wares.

Merlin watched as the two boys took up their favorite positions, waiting for the guards to move safely out of range before they heaped misery upon Prince Arthur's temporarily helpless servant. They whispered to each other, probably trying to decide who was going to pepper which side of Merlin. Merlin sighed as their grins beamed and they took aim. This was going to be a long three hours. Those baskets on the ground looked rather full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Merlin's POV, the next is Arthur's of the same stint in the stocks.


	4. Chapter Four

Set in Season 2, during the year Morgana is missing.

Arthur watched out the window as Merlin was pelted by the two boys gleefully picking out the worst pieces of fruit or vegetables they could find from the baskets that were ever so helpfully filled by the kitchen staff each morning. If sometimes pieces of produce that weren't quite bad managed to find their way into the stew pot of one of the less than fortunate people of Camelot, well, the staff and the royal family looked the other way. It was one of the more subtle ways the Pendragons could take care of their people without stomping all over their pride. It was also the easiest way to make sure the stocks remained effective. As cold-hearted as Uther could be, he'd rather use temporary discomfort and mild humiliation as a minor punishment than lashings that could leave permanent scars and foment hatred of the ruling family.

This time Arthur felt sorry for Merlin. It wasn't his fault he was a terrible liar. It also wasn't really his fault that Arthur had decided to go hunting rather than train the newest recruits. Arthur had been working steadily for the last two weeks trying to make sure that Camelot's defenders were ready for anything. He had also been overseeing the squads out hunting for any sign of Morgana's whereabouts. He had just needed some time away.

Arthur cringed as the little girl who had joined the boys winged a rotten head of cabbage and hit Merlin square on the forehead. That had to sting. He watched as she got him again. And again. The girl certainly could aim. If she was a male he would be watching to train her as an archer for the guards.

"I see Annie made it in time to join Morris and Jack in their fun." Gwen silently appeared at Arthur's side.

Arthur nodded at the trio, "I guess that's the little girl's name? Which one is Morris and which is Jack?"

"Jack is the tall one, the brewer's son. Morris is the brother of Guardsman Nick. Annie's father is a chandler." She cringed as a turnip nearly poked Merlin's eye out. "They love it when Merlin is stuck there.

Arthur glanced at her, "Why when Merlin is in there?

Gwen grinned. "He doesn't get angry at them afterwards. Or at least, he doesn't let it show. Others, like Ranald, are more likely to curse them and kick at them if he sees them later. Merlin has helped Gaius with their illnesses and still treats them well."

"Idiot. I'd be angry."

Gwen patted Arthur's arm. "I know. But Merlin isn't you."

"Meaning?" Arthur let his hand fall to where hers was placed on his forearm and held it there.

Gwen's grin faded to a gentle smile, her eyes gleaming just a little, "Nothing, my lord, just an observation that you two react differently to things." She pulled her hand free, even though it was pretty much the last thing she wanted to do.

Arthur reluctantly let Gwen pull away. Their eyes held for another moment before Gwen's dropped. Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, I should probably go get the idiot out of there. He has chores to do. My room needs to be cleaned while he lollygags over there."

"Of course, Arthur."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Arthur's POV of the last chapter.


	5. Chapter Five

Set in Season 3

It was raining today, and still Uther put Merlin in the stocks. At least with the rain, no one was coming out to throw produce at him. However, it was a cold rain and winter was nearly upon them. Merlin would be lucky if he came out of this without coming down with an ague. He couldn't even blame the Royal Prat today. No, this excursion to the stocks was all of his own making. His clumsiness and a full jug of warm cider led to the king wearing more of it than had made it into his goblet. The upside was that he didn't have to try to stay awake through another boring Council meeting.

Merlin looked up at the sound of spurred boots mounting the platform. "Oh, hello, Sir Leon."

Leon just shook his head and smiled. "Seriously, Merlin, you have to be one of the clumsiest people I know." He unlatched the stocks to let him out.

Merlin grinned, "Part of my charm?"

Leon snorted, "If you say so. It's too cold for you to stay out here. Gaius and Arthur convinced the king to let you out early."

"And they sent you to come get me out?"

"No, I volunteered. I was on my way to the tavern for a warm drink." He grinned. "Want to join me?"

Merlin blew out a breath and chuckled as he tucked his hands under his equally chilled arms to try to get them warm. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. Maybe Gaius will have some stew ready when I get home to change." He shook his head. "Besides, I still have to get Arthur's dinner."

Leon clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "Just don't bring him any cider."


	6. Chapter Six

Season 3, shortly before The Coming of Arthur

It had begun as a typical feast. The servants were in their proper places behind their masters and interspersed throughout the room. Even Merlin the Useless Clod had been dressed well, for him, that dodgy neckerchief he constantly wore tied jauntily around his neck and his jacket clean and washed for once. George, of course, was wearing his finest outfit. He tried his best to keep all three of them in immaculate condition, but this one was his best. He was standing behind the king, ready to refill his goblet at the slightest hint of need.

"Well, Ulrich, what do you think of Camelot?" King Uther leaned a bit towards his guest to hear his answer more clearly over the noise of the feast.

Lord Ulrich's greying hair had a weird reddish cast to it in the torch and candlelight as he held his goblet up. George quickly refilled the goblet while the man properly ignored him. "Your kingdom is a beauty, Uther. Your farmlands seem rich enough. Too bad your mines aren't."

The king smiled tightly at his guest. George had served enough of these feasts to recognize the quick flash of annoyance that flitted through the king's eyes. "Of course, your farmlands have been having some difficulties of their own, I hear." Uther sipped his wine, playing the game of diplomacy that he had mastered years ago. George found it fascinating to watch.

The verbal sparring was disrupted by the sounds coming from those closest to the doors. The fish course had arrived. The guests for the feast were thrilled to see what Audrey had come up with for them. Her trout with mint sauce was both legendary and rarely made.

Uther smiled and told Ulrich without looking at him, "Ah, you're in for a treat."

Ulrich grimaced a bit but the king hadn't noticed. George did and noted the slight breach of etiquette, but stood where he was. It wasn't his place to call out his betters for their lack of manners. Besides, perhaps the man simply didn't like fish. George couldn't stand chicken, personally. He looked over at Merlin when he saw the young man shifting slightly. Merlin was staring at Ulrich with an intensity George hadn't seen before. He shifted himself and cleared his throat quietly to remind the impertinent boy of his duties. Merlin glanced up at him and flashed one of those stupid grins of his. George could barely resist rolling his eyes.

The servers set the tray with the fish in front of the king and moved away. Everything after that seemed to move in slow motion. Merlin stepped forward as Uther raised his goblet to be refilled, performing George's task. George saw him and moved to intercept the interloper. Somehow, Merlin's foot tangled with George's foot, tripping the older servant and both of them watched their ewers take flight and spill their contents all over the king, his guest, and the fish course that Audrey had worked so hard on.

George's heart stopped right there in the Great Hall. Quiet descended over the room, but George wasn't sure if it was because the guests had stopped talking or if he had simply died of humiliation on the spot. He looked up from the floor where he had landed in between the chairs of the king and Lord Ulrich. "I-I-I" He simply had no words as he scrambled back to his feet and tried to clean off both men with the cloth he held over his arm.

"Get. Out." Uther's voice was low and slow and lethal. George gave the tiniest whimper as he obeyed his king, bowing so low he nearly scraped his head on the floor as he backed away, grabbing the arm of that brainless idiot who had surely condemned both of them to a night in the dungeons.

George shook as he leaned against the wall of the servant's passage behind the throne. He slid down onto the floor as he awaited some idea of his fate. Not realizing he still had Merlin's arm in a death grip, he was surprised when Merlin sat beside him. He looked at Merlin in shock and all he could do was shake his head. He still had no words for what had just happened. He looked away from Merlin when he heard footsteps coming toward them. The seneschal stood next to them.

"George, Merlin, it's a night in the dungeons for the two of you. The king is not at all pleased. Tomorrow you'll both be brought out to the square and stuck in the stocks for the entire day."

-Later that Night-

George looked up as he heard some whispering. "Merlin, what happened?" Gaius was standing in front of the doors of the clumsy oaf who had consigned them both to this punishment and humiliation.

"I'm sorry, Gaius. I told you Lord Ulrich was planning something. I could just tell he wasn't going to eat the fish. It was the only thing I could think of to make sure Uther wasn't poisoned. Just make sure Ulrich doesn't get a second chance."

George heard the physician sigh. "I'm sorry, my boy. I can't do anything to get you out of this."

Merlin's voice was too damned cheerful when he answered, "I'm alright. It's not as if I haven't been here before, or the stocks. I just feel bad about poor George over there." George closed his eyes quickly so neither could tell he was listening to them discuss plots to poison the king. "He's going to be miserable tomorrow." George decided right then that he was dreaming, because there was no way the incompetent Merlin could be responsible for deliberately foiling assassins. Accidentally tripping and causing a chain reaction that would topple a building, absolutely, but George simply could not credit him with the cleverness required for this dream to be real.

-The Next Day-

Dream Merlin had been right. George was miserable. He could feel the vegetables crusting in his hair. His best outfit was ruined, and he was sure that one of those little brats had been throwing rocks, not rotten fruit. Merlin was disgustingly cheerful as he accepted a dipper of water from the boy who had been throwing turnips at them. "Thanks, Morris. I don't suppose the basket's empty yet?"

The boy grinned. "One of the scullions just refilled it."

"Oh, of course." Merlin gestured the boy over and whispered something George couldn't hear.

The boy looked at George questioningly, but George never saw it since he had his head down, trying his best to ignore the whole situation and forget that the insane dream he had last night. "You sure, Merlin?"

"Positive."

"Alright." Morris brought over a dipper of water for George. "Here, George. You must be thirsty."

George looked up at the boy in surprise and smiled a bit. "Yes, I am. Thank you." He looked over at Merlin after drinking and asked as the boy scampered off. "You told him to give me water?"

Merlin grinned. "No, he was going to do that anyway. What fun is it if their targets pass out in the sun?" The grin turned into a grimace as the kids lined up to take their shots again. "And here we go again."

George braced himself for the inundation of produce. After the first minute he realized that while he heard the solid thud of the rotten food hitting the wooden board, he hadn't felt anything. He opened his eyes and carefully looked up. None of the kids were aiming at him. They were all aiming at Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know George isn't actually introduced until after Arthur is king, but I can just imagine the man being one of Uther's servants already, so I'm putting him in the world a bit early. Besides, would Arthur really remember other servants at this point? He's getting better, but he's still a bit of an ass. And just because Merlin didn't say he already knew the punctilious servant doesn't mean he hadn't already had run-ins with him. I'm going with him just being p'oed at Arthur for sticking him with George for the week. Of course, with George's attitude after the episode he's introduced, Merlin might be more inclined to let the kids peg the man with rotten fruit next time he finds himself in the stocks.
> 
> Also, the trout with mint sauce was a real thing. If anyone wants to find it, just do a web search for "medieval food trout with mint sauce" and it's the first result (in Google).


	7. Chapter Seven

Set in Season 4

Annie sat in the corner of the market square, her head buried in her lap, tears wetting the fabric of her dress. Gaius was supposed to be able to help everyone. He wasn't supposed to let her baby sister die. The fever that ran through Camelot had hit the youngest and the oldest of all ranks the worst. She started when someone sat next to her. She looked up and saw Merlin beside her, reaching out and putting his thin arm around her just as thin shoulders. Annie leaned into his warm shoulder. Neither said anything as Annie wept into Merlin's neckerchief. Eventually Annie's sobs slowed to ragged hiccups.

"Why, Merlin? She was just a little baby."

Merlin shook his head. "I don't have any answers for you, Annie. There is no reason for it." He rubbed her shoulder. "The Druids would say death is a natural part of life. The Christians would say your sister has gone on to heaven. I don't know which is right or even if either is wrong, but I do know she didn't deserve it and neither did your family."

"Dame Larkin died, too, but she was old." Annie studied her hands. "She was nice to me. Ranald died, too. He wasn't always nice."

"Ranald was just always upset because you threw cabbages at his head." Merlin squeezed her shoulders.

Annie's mouth crooked up in the corner. "He was nicer when he was drunk."

"Drinking was what made him feel better. He was a hero, you know. He helped Sir Ector save King Uther once. They were attacked by a group of bandits and almost all of the soldiers and knights were killed. Only the King, Sir Ector, and Ranald were alive by the end of the fight."

"If he was a hero, why did he need to feel better?"

Merlin drew in a deep breath. "From what Gaius told me, it was Uther's war against magic that made him need to drink."

"How? Magic is evil."

Merlin was glad Annie couldn't see his grimace. "Ranald was part of a group that attacked a Druid village right after his own family died from a fever. A lot of children died and he just couldn't deal with it, except by drinking."

Annie was silent for a minute. "He was sad, wasn't he? Because those kids died." Merlin just nodded, knowing Annie could feel it. "I'm sorry for him and I'm sorry I threw those cabbages at him."

Merlin and Annie sat silently for another minute. "Merlin, am I bad for not feeling sorry I threw cabbages at you?"

Merlin snorted. "No, Annie. You know I'm not angry at you for it. Although, some of those shots did hurt. A lot." He smiled at the girl. "You'd be a pretty good fighter yourself, you know. You have excellent aim."

She cast a tiny smile back up at him. "No, I just want to marry Morris and be a tanner's wife."

"Oh, dear gods, you make me happy Arthur doesn't seem as inclined as his father to put me in the stocks. Your children would be in their glory." Merlin chuckled. "Does Morris know you want to marry him?"

Annie grinned. "His mother and father do. I'm working on Morris. Right now he seems to think that Meg's daughter is right for him. Obviously, he's wrong."

"Oh, yes. Obviously." Merlin helped the girl stand and they started walking back toward her home. There was much to do to bury her little sister, but for this brief moment, she was looking forward to life and the future. Yes, she and Morris would do just fine together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, my little OCs are growing up. I don't mean to be cruel and kill off little children and old people, but Gaius didn't exactly have access to penicillin. As for mentioning the Christians, historically, they would have already been a presence in Camelot, brought in with the Romans. I'll be honest, I'm glad the show didn't really address this, since it could have been done really badly.


	8. Chapter Eight

Set in Season 5

Nick had survived the Dorocha. Barely. He had survived a ridiculous number of bandit attacks with just scars to show for them. He had survived two of Cenred's armies, both of them made of undying soldiers. He had survived gargoyles coming to life, and now he couldn't pass under them without keeping one eye on them. He had survived just about everything that could be thrown at him as one of King Arthur's guardsmen. He just wasn't sure he would survive guarding his youngest brother stuck in the stocks for the next four hours.

"Come on, Nick, be a good brother and let me out. Ouch! That hurt, you little beast!" Morris was finally reaping what he had sown his entire life.

Nick's lips twitched as he saw who was lining up to take her pick of the weapons in the basket. Morris' whimpered, "Oh, shit," told his oldest brother that he saw Annie's evil grin as clearly as Nick.

Well, it was all Morris' fault. He was the one to start the fight that trashed the market over the attentions of Meg's oldest daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this was all OCs. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I've become curious as to what will happen in the lives of my OCs.


	9. Chapter Nine

Set in Season 5

Sir Gwaine was missing. He was supposed to be at the meeting scheduled for the knights bright and early in the morning. He wasn't there. King Arthur's mouth tightened as he sent Merlin to the errant knight's quarters to drag him out of bed. The others had made it regardless of last night's escapades in the tavern, most of which they didn't actually remember this morning.

Percival had his eyes closed as they waited, taking advantage of the time it would take Merlin to get Gwaine to get in just a few more minutes of rest.

Leon held his head up in his hand. How the others had convinced him to drink as much as he had, he would never remember. He was normally the most sober of all of them, the oldest and the most aware of his responsibilities as First Knight. He suspected Gwaine was at the root of his current headache.

Elyan sat back in his chair, scowling, with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. He was just trying to push down the nausea he was feeling. He should have stopped by Gaius' to grab a tonic before he came to the meeting, but he had woken up with too little time to spare.

The other knights at the meeting were looking from the Knights of the Round Table to the king wondering how much trouble the king's closest friends would actually be in this time. The small group usually managed to skirt the king's wrath, especially the flippant Sir Gwaine. It was patently clear that the king depended upon the honesty and camaraderie these four men, well, five if you counted the king's odd servant, provided to keep himself grounded.

Sir Ector looked around. He was one of the last members of King Uther's court, and had watched Arthur grow from infancy. He was actually one of only four members of the Council that remained from Uther's. The others had been slowly weaned out as they aged and irritated the young King to the point that he gently suggested they take advantage of "well-deserved retirements". Ector's mouth quirked as he recalled the reactions of some of the more hidebound lords. One didn't last long in a court council by only thinking about the beliefs of the last king and Arthur was definitely not his father. He was more compassionate, much like the mother he had never known. Ector put that on the very companions of Arthur's he was watching nurse hangovers, mostly common men who showed the gallantry and fortitude it took to become knights. He also had to give credit to the three commoners whose lives entwined with Arthur's on a daily basis: Gaius, newly promoted to a permanent member of Arthur's Council, the maidservant-turned-Queen, and his manservant. Ector had happily watched as those people turned an arrogant, spoiled bully into a man worthy of the throne.

Speaking of manservants, Arthur's burst through the door, his face incandescent with glee. "I found Gwaine, Sire."

"Well, why the hell isn't he with you?"

Merlin pursed his lips and tried to restrain his grin as he stood up straighter, his body sort of cocked to the side as he shook his head slightly. "I couldn't bring him with me. I don't have the authority to release someone from the stocks."

"The what?!" Arthur's face went momentarily blank. He took a deep breath and visibly composed himself. "Is he alright, Merlin?"

Merlin shrugged. "It was warm last night, sire. He's just sleeping off the hangover at the moment."

"Fine, just leave him there. Maybe it'll teach him a lesson." Arthur shifted and knocked Percival awake. "Wake up, Perce. We have work to do. You can fill in Gwaine later."

Two hours later, Arthur sent Percival and Elyan to release their companion from the stocks. They didn't even try to restrain their laughter as they approached their miserable friend. His normally bouncy locks were encrusted with bits of produce. The children of the market had enjoyed their time with a brand new target. Percival detoured over to the chandler's stall, delaying the inevitable whining and cursing from his best friend. "How are the wedding plans going, Annie?"

"Oh, splendidly." Annie grinned. "Jack's father is giving Morris and me a few barrels of ale as a wedding present so I expect we'll probably have a few people who might be spending some time where yonder knight spent the morning." She laughed. "Poor thing was so miserable I sent young Thomas to Gaius to get him a headache draught in between pelting him with turnips. But I have to ask. What did he do to anger the king so much that a knight got stuck in the stocks?"

Percival grinned. Between them, the other three had pieced together what had happened last night. "Not a thing. Annie, he was so drunk last night that he put himself in there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Gwaine. I wonder if the kids threw apples at him. And we finally get to see Sir Ector. Since I killed off Ranald early we should probably have one of the two, right? Besides, Ector was one of the historical Knights of the Round Table. I might try to bring in a few more of them. We'll see where this goes since I don't think I can throw all the knights into the stocks.


	10. Chapter Ten

Set in Season 4, before the first episode, sometime in the year Arthur is Regent

Audrey Cook was what some might call a large woman. She held iron control over her kitchens and drove respectful fear into the hearts of all she surveyed. The only exception to those who feared her wrath was that cheeky manservant of the prince, Merlin. He swanned in and out of her kitchens, occasionally snagging a roll here or a sausage there as he watched the cooks make the prince's meals. Almost as bad were those knights he seemed so fond of.

Knights! They were no better than little boys, the lot of them. All of them acting like little children, thinking she wouldn't notice when they invaded her kitchens looking for food or a flirt with a nimble kitchen maid. Those jumped-up commoner knights had even corrupted that good boy, Sir Leon. He had never caused her the trouble growing up that the lot of them did now.

Audrey snapped out her hand and whacked the spit boy with her ladle to wake him up. "Wake up, boy, or I'll have you cleaning pots for the next week. If you let that pig burn, I'll have your head on a platter."

He gulped and nodded, starting up the turns he was responsible for. Audrey watched him for half a minute before turning her attention back to the pies she was preparing. There was so much to do that she could neither afford to let her attention slip too far from any one of her workers, nor concentrate too much on any individual. Everyone outside the kitchens seemed to think their food just appeared magically. Hah! If Audrey could have used magic to make the food for the people of the citadel she would have done so, legal or not. It would have been easier than having to keep track of as many workers and tasks as she did.

After the feast was over, Audrey sat, eyes closed, against the wall of the kitchen garden with a couple of her cooks. The three women had small mugs of ale and were just trying to cool down from the constant heat of the many ovens and fires. None were speaking, just enjoying the cool, crisp night when they heard a light step. Audrey looked up to see Gaius approaching. She moved over on the bench to give the smaller man some space.

He smiled gratefully as one of Audrey's assistants handed him another mug filled from the ewer at their feet. "Thank you, Selene." He tipped the drink in her direction and sipped. "The meal was excellent, as usual, ladies. I think Lord Maren was impressed."

"Thank you, Gaius. We try our best." Outside the chaos of the kitchens and with the feast over Audrey was able to relax a bit and let her kinder side show.

The youngest of Audrey's assistants leaned around the other two to look at the Court Physician. "How did they like the honey bread? I tried a new recipe for it."

The three women smiled at the slow, sheepish grin the torchlight revealed creeping across Gaius' face. "I'm afraid I ate more than I should have. I know the Prince did, as well. It was delicious, Mary."

Audrey nodded at the young woman, blushing from more than the dying heat of the kitchens, "Good girl. You had a good idea to change the recipe." Mary smiled happily at the praise of her notoriously hard to please superior. The four let the night sounds and the simple camaraderie wash over them for a few minutes before Audrey turned back to Gaius. "As much as I love it when you tell us we're doing our jobs well, I know you too well to think that and an ale are why you sought us out. What's on your mind, Gaius?"

"There's a family that needs some help. Do you remember the fever that came through a few months ago? Well, one of the cartwrights died in it, leaving three children and a young widow. She's trying her best, but the youngest is only a year old, so she's having some trouble making ends meet. Her oldest is apprenticing to one of the other cartwrights, so he's taken care of, but the other two are still too young to apprentice."

Audrey hmmmed. "How old is the middle one?"

"Six. Another boy."

"Well, we can probably get him a job as a page somewhere, or even find room for another spit boy. It'll take a bit of time, though. Right now I have some produce that's close to turning. I can make sure it ends up in the stocks basket if you can make sure they get there first thing tomorrow morning."

Gaius smiled. "I hoped you would say that, Audrey. I can send Merlin to tell them after he gets back from taking care of the prince."

Audrey snorted and shook her head. "That boy of yours. He's a cheeky little bugger." Her mouth quirked a bit. "But he's actually a good boy. I'll talk to the seneschal and the head maid about finding a job for the cartwright's boy or his widow and let you know soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is where I'll start going back and forth in time. The timing of the story will always be at the top. Hopefully I won't confuse you all too much. I know the relation to the stocks was sort of random here, but I always liked the cook. Also, I know a lot of fics call her Mary, but looking on the Merlin wiki I saw her name listed as Audrey. Mary was the owner of the tavern/inn that Gwaine, Arthur, and Merlin busted up.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Before the Purge

The summer was one of the hottest in memory in Camelot. Crops were withering in the fields. Uther knew he'd have to bring food in from other kingdoms if it could be bargained for. The Druids, with all of their powers of the earth and nature hadn't been able to bring in enough rain to ensure a bountiful harvest. The court sorcerer, Nimueh, spent hours closeted with the other sorcerers at court, consulting old tomes and scrolls that might contain a spell to bring rain to the parched land. So far nothing effective had been found.

Uther's wife joined him on the parapet of the highest tower. Ygraine was the love of his life. He conveniently forgot about his periodic indiscretions with other ladies of the court whenever he was with her. No matter whom he found himself in bed with, his heart belonged to her alone. She reached out and took his hand as she stood next to him. He smiled and simply brought it up to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles. They both turned and silently looked over the fields that should have been waving waist high with wheat and barley. Instead some of them were just brown patches while others were full of stunted plants.

"The irrigation ditches just aren't filling up, Uther. Agravaine told me that Tristan is trying to dig new wells on the estate, but is having no luck. The water is just too deep."

"The aquifer and water supply for the city is still safe, but we have no real way of getting it to the fields, darling. Other than carting it all by hand."

Ygraine had been thinking about that. "What about aqueducts like the Romans left? You know, like at the Dolaucothi mines. Surely, we can build something like that. It would give Nimueh and the other sorcerers something to actually accomplish. They're getting so frustrated."

Uther looked at his wife, a slow smile starting to creep across his face. "You are brilliant, my wife, did you know that."

Ygraine smiled back and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "As long as you never forget it."

The idea of building temporary aqueducts to save at least part of the harvest energized the corps of sorcerers and learned men of the court. A group of them took a trip out to the mines to get a better idea of how they could adapt and quickly build them. There was a sliver of hope in the kingdom for the first time in months. Uther and Ygraine were finally able to walk through the market in the town square and actually smile at the merchants and townspeople who had been trying their hardest to stay positive.

Uther looked on indulgently as his wife and her maidservant sorted through the odd bits of jewelry the smith's wife had on display. There were actually dark clouds in the sky for the first time in two weeks. It felt odd to hope for bad weather when in a normal summer the dark clouds on the sky were what heralded groans. Uther looked over at the stocks, normally occupied by some miscreant who had committed an offense. With the weather as bad as it had been Uther had instead decreed that minor offenses be punished by labor in the stables or something else rather than standing in the stocks. That decision had come from the earnest entreaties of the healers such as Gaius who were the ones dealing with the aftermath of heat stroke from hours in the sun with little water. Right now the low platform with the stocks was occupied by the children of the stall owners doing little chores.

Uther's attention was drawn by Ygraine's laugh, a boisterous boom completely at odds with her delicate looks. She and her maid were inspecting a lovely chain with a small carved crystal on the end. She glanced at her husband and held it up to the light, catching the rays in such a way that a rainbow was cast over the stall. "Look, Uther. Isn't it darling?"

Uther walked over to her and took it from her hands. He undid the clasp and placed it around her neck, arranging it so the crystal nestled at the dip of her neck. "Now it's darling, my love." He turned to the smith's wife, dipping his hand into his purse to fish out some coins, when he felt something strike his cheek. He looked up and felt another raindrop hit his forehead. Without much warning the sky opened up and the rain began to pour from the clouds.

The children sitting on the stocks shrieked with glee as they were quickly soaked jumping off the platform into the rapidly filling puddles. Uther and Ygraine just stood where they were, faces turned up to the sky as they ignored the begging of Ygraine's maid and Uther's guard to at least rush under one of the stall canopies. The rain held up for only a few minutes, beating down on the people in the market. The king and queen weren't the only people to just stand there and let it wash over them. Too soon the rain was over. In its wake remained that almost magical, earthy smell that filled one's nostrils after a heavy rain following a dry spell. The intoxicating combination of dirt and plant oil teased the nostrils of the people of Camelot.

No, this rain wouldn't alleviate the drought the kingdom was experiencing, but for one brief moment all had been well and the children laughed and hollered as the raindrops rolled down their dry cheeks. The king paid for the necklace with a smile as he and his drenched queen strolled back to the citadel, arm in arm, a large rainbow wreathing the sky behind the city while small rainbows were cast by the cut edges in the queen's new necklace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this one is even less connected to the stocks than the story with Audrey the cook, but the word "Petrichor" came up in my dictionary app and I had to write something about it. For those who don't know, even though it sounds like an ancient word, it was really coined in 1964 by two Australian researchers: Isabel Joy Bear, and Richard G. Thomas. It was a composite of the Greek words petra and ichor: "Stone" and "the fluid that flows through the veins of the Greek gods". Basically, during a long, dry spell some plants release a certain oil that mixes with the soil. When it's exposed to and thrown up into the air by rain it becomes that smell that so many of us cherish.
> 
> Also, I'm sure I'm not alone in my general dislike of Uther, but he must have had some redeeming qualities as a young king and husband. I hope.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Modern times, just a tad bit AU

"And we're back where we started the tour, but we're not quite finished." The tour guide gestured dramatically around the market square with its busy stalls. "Before you saunter off to buy souvenirs at the stalls that make up our museum store," he said, raising his voice over the excited murmurs of the tour group that had hung on his every word for the past forty-five minutes, "I want you to see one of the more interesting places our beloved Merlin Emrys spent a good portion of his time."

He stepped up to the low platform and put his hand on the reproduction of the stocks and pillory that had been installed when the castle had been renovated fifteen years before. "According to the journals of Geoffrey of Monmouth, when Emrys was a young man serving Prince Arthur he managed to get into quite a bit of trouble and spent many a day hanging out here in the pillory."

"Um, what is that?" a little girl in the front of the group asked.

The guide's cheeks dimpled as he grinned and patted the wooden frame with three holes. "An old punishment device. A person is locked into this, the pillory, standing, with his or her arms and head stuck through the holes until their punishment time is over. The stocks is this one." He pointed to the metal rings placed low on the platform. "The person being punished would have their feet stuck through these holes and have to sit there without being able to go anywhere. They wouldn't be given pee breaks or anything and they could be stuck out here rain or shine, in winter or summer, for hours. Often there would be crowds throwing old fruit and veg, stones, or animal manure at the person in the stocks. Hard to imagine someone of Emrys' stature covered in tomatoes, eh?"

Another voice from the crowd called out, "Yeah, especially since tomatoes weren't even discovered by Europeans until Arthur was long gone."

The guide cringed for a moment before plastering a tight smile on his face. There was always one in every group. "Hehe. Right you are. They would have actually used cabbages and the like. Anyway, that's the tour. You can explore the public areas on your own until the castle closes in four hours. Some areas are roped off or guarded, so no wandering into them. On behalf of the Pendragon family, I thank you for coming on the official tour of Camelot. You adults, don't forget to try the mead at the Rising Sun tavern down the path. It's my favorite, and legend has it, also Sir Gwaine's. You can get it bottled so you don't have to worry about a drink-driving offense."

The group scattered and the guide started walking over to the kiosk where the tours lined up when he noticed a dark-haired young man approach the stocks and pillory. He thought he recognized him as the joker who had snickered throughout the tour and had been the one to comment about the tomatoes. He watched as the man mounted the platform and ran his hand over the wooden fixture, a slight smile on his face. The guide turned around and walked back over to the tourist. "It's pretty amazing, right? That someone as powerful as Emrys was supposed to be could ever have been put into one of these."

The man looked up at him, blue eyes twinkling. "You do realize that they weren't here, right? They were further over in the square." He pointed off to the right a bit as he dismounted the platform. As he met the guide's eyes, his own glowed gold for just a moment before he turned to walk away, winking as he tossed over his shoulder, "And let me tell you, turnips hurt like hell when they hit you just right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, gods, please don't ask me where this one came from. I have no clue.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Season 3

Merlin stumbled into the prince's room, tired and sore from another stint in the stocks, Seriously, all he had done was spend the night before in the Darkling Woods, fighting yet another sorcerer who had thought Camelot was ripe for the picking since it had no sorcerers defending it thanks to Uther's damned paranoia and bigotry. One would think that the idiots who wanted to take over the castle would realize by now that someone magical was defending it. Too many had been defeated by supposedly ordinary knights for it not to be blindingly obvious by now, right?

He had come home a few hours before dawn with a new burn mark scarring both his jacket and his arm and just fell into his bed fully clothed. He only woke up to the bucket of water being poured over his head by a fully dressed and seething Arthur.

"Wake up, idiot. You were supposed to make sure I was up and ready in time for the Council meeting with father."

"Arthur?" Merlin pushed the dripping hair out of his eyes as he tried to bring his fuzzy mind into focus.

"Obviously." Arthur put the bucket on the floor near Merlin's bed. "Get up. Why I have to continually track down my manservant is a mystery to me." He strode to the doorway and looked back, "I can't believe other people have this much trouble. Come on, Merlin, your chores await." He smiled evilly, "And my father wants to see you."

Merlin had survived the thankfully brief, yet terrifying, interview with the king, where he had been given four hours in the stocks on top of his normal duties. His true punishment was actually mucking out the stables. Instead of just taking care of Arthur's horses, he also had to take care of the king's, Sir Ector's, and Sir Leon's horses. That was where he was going next, after he cleaned up Arthur's room. He had returned to his room just long enough to wash off the worst of the grime from the stocks. He had no idea how the kids had actually gotten egg in his hair this time. None of them had been throwing eggs. Although, he was certain that little delinquent son of Sir Pinel was throwing rocks.

Thinking about that, he looked in the highly polished silver mirror that graced Arthur's chamber and pulled back his hair. Yes, it had definitely been a rock. The cut wasn't bad, only bleeding sluggishly, but it would definitely leave another small scar to add to Merlin's ever-growing tally. He sighed and picked up the bucket of warm water he'd need to scrub the floors. He never understood how Arthur got his rooms such a mess when he was never there. He was always training with the knights or shadowing his father. Merlin understood how his own were always so messy. He never had the time or energy to clean them with his responsibilities to both Arthur and Gaius.

As he looked around the room, he just knew there would be no way he'd get everything done in one day, not with four hours being taken by the stocks, and the extra time it would take to clean the stables, plus the fact that he'd been behind already. It was so tempting just to magic it all and be done, but he knew his luck. He'd get caught and be sent to the dungeons awaiting either an inconvenient adjustment to his gangly height or a nice, deep-fried tan if he tried. So, he knelt down on the floor and started scrubbing as he mentally itemized exactly what he could get away with slacking on so he got just the tiniest amount of sleep tonight.

In between thoughts of chores he imagined just how Uther and Arthur would have reacted if he had told them the truth about why he'd slept in. He chuckled a bit at the imagined looks on their faces if he ever told them precisely how many evil sorcerers he'd defeated in the few years he'd been slaving away as Arthur's manservant. He could just see the horror on Uther's face if he actually plucked up the courage to defy the prattiest of prats and tell him just how many assassination attempts he had foiled on the life of a king who would have him killed for nothing more than breathing. Sometimes he almost thought it would be worth being caught just to see the old rattlecap completely speechless. For all of the five seconds before he called for his guards, of course.

"You know, Merlin, if you think scrubbing floors is so much fun, I can make sure you do it throughout the castle." The rag slipped from Merlin's hand as he looked up at the door where Arthur lounged with his arms crossed as he watched the young man work.

Merlin reached to his left to retrieve the rag and grinned, "Nah, you wouldn't really want me enjoying myself, especially when it would mean I'd have less time to do all the other chores you need me to do." He ignored the prince as he walked around the wet area of the floor. For once the chucklehead wasn't trailing mud across a nicely cleaned floor. He must have been closeted with his father after Merlin left the king's chambers.

He managed to ignore the sounds the prince was making up until he stood right in front of him. Merlin looked up, "Yes, sire?"

"Here." Merlin looked at the scrap of cloth Arthur held in confusion. Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled Merlin up by his jacket to drag him over to the mirror. "You're bleeding. Clean it off or Gaius will have my head on a platter."

"Oh!" Merlin had thought the cut would have stopped by now. "Sir Pinel's little brat was throwing rocks today." He winced at the touch of the dry cloth and walked over to dip the scrap in some water from the ewer he kept full by Arthur's bed.

Arthur sat sprawled in the chair by the table in his chambers, "Honestly, Merlin, don't you ever get tired of getting put in the stocks?"

Merlin looked over at Arthur in disbelief. "Arthur, do you truly believe I enjoy standing for hours at a time without even being able to pee while idiots and little children fling rotten produce at my head? If I'm lucky? If I'm not lucky then brats like Sir Pinel's throw rocks and dung at me? And you think I enjoy it? Would you like to switch places with me the next time you or your father get upset with me for being so damned tired I can't get any sleep because I'm either taking care of you or taking care of Gaius?"

Arthur stared at Merlin, the outburst taking him by surprise. Merlin just shook his head and went back to dabbing the cut that had mostly stopped oozing and just looked worse than it really was. "Arthur, I'd love to never stand in the stocks again, but I know that'll never happen because, frankly, you and your father are demanding asses."

"Merlin!"

Merlin turned from the mirror. "Now if you don't mind, I have all of my normal chores to do, and I still have to muck out four sets of stables. I don't have time for one of our little chats. Thank you for making sure my cut was taken care of. Gaius won't have to kill you now." He picked up the rag, knelt back on the floor and started scrubbing again, purposely tuning the prince and his grumbles out while he worked. Sometimes it felt good to be able to tell off the prince. Oh, he knew Arthur would find a way to make him pay for besting him in one of their verbal sparring matches, but for just this moment, life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I kept thinking as I wrote that first paragraph was "It is defended!" and I so wanted to include that line, but I couldn't work it in. Ah, well. Whovian references left for another day.
> 
> I always wished Merlin's rant to Gaius was actually said to Arthur, so here it is.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Set early in Season 5

George was not a brave man. He would never deny that. Hand him a polishing cloth and a candlestick and he was happy as a clam. Set him the impossible task of cleaning the king's chambers and it was as good as done. He, of course, would never admit that he agreed with Merlin when the young man questioned how those chambers got wrecked so completely, so quickly. That simply wouldn't have been proper, even if he did wonder the same thing. No, he was not brave. He was efficient. He certainly had no idea how to deal with the knowledge that Merlin was a sorcerer, because that was the only explanation for what he had seen.

It had started out as such a good day, too. The sun was shining. For once there was no rain. The birds were starting their dawn songs when he got up. He always tried to get up earlier than everyone else. It was just easier to complete certain tasks without the bother of people around.

George had gotten the morning chores done in the amount of time he had allotted them and was looking forward to his lunch when he saw it. It was just a silly thing that gave away the secret. Merlin had the tray for the king's meal and was rushing, as usual. Just as he passed the opening to the corridor George was in, he tripped. He did that a lot, all gangly arms and legs that just never seemed to know quite how to work together.

The only problem with that particular trip and fall was that the tray with the king's lunch tumbled along with him and the sausages, fruit, and bread nearly hit the floor. Nearly, because right before they would have, they all stopped in mid-air. George had no idea how he moved so quickly, but he was suddenly standing flat against the door he was passing. George could hardly breathe. He was afraid Merlin would hear him and turn him into a toad or something, if not outright kill him.

He listened to Merlin cursing under his breath and waited until he was sure the young sorcerer had gone on with his task. Merlin, a sorcerer! How? Surely, that was impossible. The conversation from the dungeon replayed itself in his mind. He had started to suspect something was odd about the young man after the idiot had gotten him stuck in the stocks while trying to prevent King Uther from being poisoned all those years ago, but sorcery? The conversation he had overheard between the manservant and his mentor had played over and over again like a particularly annoying minstrel's tune in his head for a few months after the "incident", as he called it in his mind, but wasn't something he'd really thought of lately. Merlin had saved King Uther. George had even served at the feast with Bayard when Merlin had poisoned himself to save King Arthur. He may have been clumsy and feckless, but he was loyal. George would bet his own life on that. How could he be a sorcerer? And Gaius must know, too.

George took a deep breath. He decided to do what he always did when confronted with a problem to solve: look at every facet and analyze it until there was nothing else to be gained from the analysis. He never did anything with less than total deliberation. He prided himself on it. He would think about this during the rest of the day and decide his next course of action.

Ultimately, George ran through everything he knew of the young manservant and everything he knew about his actions from the time he had come to Camelot, including taking the brunt of the rubbish being thrown at the two of them when they were both stuck in the stocks. Truly, out of everything else, that one action kept coming to the fore in George's mind. It was an act of simple kindness, given to someone who had never even been a friend.

By the time dinner was over and George had the free time to actually approach Sir Leon, because to approach the king would have been reaching above his station, instead he wished the First Knight of Camelot a good evening when they chanced to pass each other in the corridor, and went to his small home near The Rising Sun. He gave his parents the leftovers that the cook let him take home because his father was unable to work and went to bed. The morning would come soon enough and he still had some thinking to do.

George had a surprisingly dreamless sleep. He had worried that he would have nightmares the entire night. Instead he woke at his normal time, with his mother, a baker who sold her wares in the market each day. Carys fixed them both a mug of barley water and sat down across from him. "So, what's bothering you? You've been quiet, even for you."

He smiled at his mother. She knew him better than anyone else and had never been shy about speaking her mind. In fact, he often thought her to be the wisest person he had ever known. "I found out a secret but I'm not sure what to do about it."

"Would it hurt someone if you keep the secret? Or would it hurt someone if you tell it?"

"Definitely 'yes' to the second question, and I'm not sure about the first."

Carys sipped her drink, "Is it dangerous?"

George sighed, "I just don't know. I cannot imagine the person harming anyone. Truly, I can't."

"Then keep it. Until they are willing to tell it themselves, keep it locked in that clever brain of yours."

"That simple? Just do nothing?"

His mother smiled. "My dearest boy, there are only three secrets in Camelot that can create such emotional havoc in a person: infidelity, sodomy, or magic." She paused as she saw George react to the last. "Let me tell you something about each of them. The first is really only the business of the people involved and besides, noblemen really tend to hate the idea of servants knowing them to be cuckold. The tend to take their wrath out on said servants before they take it out on the two lovers. As for the second, real love is a gift and it should be celebrated in whatever form it occurs. As for the last, well, your great-uncle was killed in the Purge for doing nothing more than healing your cousin, Richard. I've never thought magic was as evil as our last king believed, especially if, as you said, you can't imagine the person ever harming anyone else. Just let it be, son." She finished off her drink and went to rinse the cup out and head to work, kissing George on the top of the head as she passed him while he fiddled with his own full cup.

George went to his duties that morning a bit later than he normally did. He sat there for a bit longer, working things out. As he walked through the halls of the citadel he looked at them with a new light. He was about to commit treason. He was going to walk right past every knight, nobleman, and even the king himself, and not say a word about Merlin. If he wasn't so frightened they'd find out, he'd say he almost felt giddy. Maybe even a bit brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, technically, this one has absolutely no connection to the stocks. It is more a continuation of Chapter 6, where Merlin and George both end up in the stocks, but I do adore George, even if we saw him for all of about fifteen minutes in the show. I probably should have just posted this as a separate one-shot, but then people would have had to read The Stocks to understand the background of it. It just seemed to be better to put it in here.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely some violence, with references to children being killed in a raid.

Ranald's POV; Set anytime before Chapter 7

The stocks faded away as he listened to the childrens' shrieks. They became the backdrop of his nightmares, sleeping and waking. They were no longer the gleeful sound of children having fun at his expense. They were now the terrified sounds of children runningrunningrunning, trying in vain to get away from the slashing swords and the blood-red capes and tabards. They were now the cries of grief as children watched their parents cut down where they stood, rivulets of life-giving blood running from torn flesh as spears and arrows heartlessly cut them down. They were the sound of clear tears washed with scarlet to become a pale pink, the color of flesh as it lay exposed to a cruel sun.

The stocks were his shame and his penance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not a funny one, but Uther's crusade against magic must have been tough on the first generation of it.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Set in Ealdor when Will and Merlin are 6 years old

"Clumsy child! I could have you in the stocks for this!" Will cowered as the knight raised his gloved fist about to bring it down upon his head.

The blow never came. He looked up as he heard a calm voice, "There are no stocks in this village, Sir Lot. And that is my son, so I would appreciate it if you'd not hit him for a simple accident. He will apologize to you and clean the ale off your tunic before we leave tomorrow." His father held the knight's arm in his own, preventing the blow that would surely have knocked Will arse over teakettle.

"Fine, but my tunic had better be spotless." The knight wrenched his arm out of Will's father's hand and stalked off.

Sir Kit watched him leave and gave a small sigh, "And here I thought your friend Merlin was the clumsy one, eh, Will?" He looked down at his son, who was grinning as if the boy had suddenly been handed the stars and the moon, and knelt to gather him up in his arms.

"Da? We didn't think you'd be home for months. I missed you." Will buried his head in his father's strong shoulder.

"Oh, I missed you, too, Will. So much." Kit carried his son out of the tiny tavern Ealdor supported and headed toward the little cottage his wife, Anna, and son lived in. He and Anna had moved there shortly after she found out she was pregnant so she could be closer to her family since Kit was so rarely present at King Cenred's court and would have essentially left her on her own without any help.

Kit breathed in the smell of drying herbs as he walked through the door, still holding his young son in his arms. He was greeted with waves and hellos as they traveled the village. It had been a few months since their resident knight had been able to see his family. He didn't even put Will down or close the door before he found his other arm full of his lovely wife. She was crying as she held onto him and her son tightly.

"Oh, Kit. How did you get the king to let you come home?"

Kit kissed Anna's temple. "Cenred is concerned with raids from Camelot, so he wanted to display a show of force along the border. I volunteered to go when it was clear the route would take us through Ealdor." He squeezed his family tightly. "I needed to see you two again. It's been too long."

Lunch was a boisterous affair, not just a reunion of husband, wife, and child, but of his in-laws and his best friends in the village, as well. Hunith brought Merlin over and the two boys were sitting by the empty fireplace, playing with some carved wooden knights Anna's father had made for Will. As Kit laughed with his mother-in-law, Will and Merlin came over to him, Will tugging his hand to gain his attention. "Da, I forgot to clean that knight's tunic."

Kit grimaced. He'd forgotten about Sir Lot's ale-drenched tunic, as well. "You're right. We both forgot about it, didn't we?" He looked down at the two boys, not wanting to send his son back where the cruel knight could hurt him again just to retrieve the tunic, wondering who he could have get it for them.

"Tunic?" Anna's mother tilted her head curiously at the three males in front of her.

Kit answered for them, "Will was delivering a message to the tavern, and ran into one of my cohorts while he had a mug of ale, which then spilled all over his tunic. He's a nasty sort and, well, Will gets to clean the tunic and apologize."

"He was going to hit me but da stopped him." Will didn't even pause, "And he was going to put me in socks."

"But you're already wearing socks." Merlin replied.

"I know." Will shrugged. "Maybe he was going to make me wear his. They'd be really big on me, though."

"Or maybe they're just really dirty and disgusting."

"Have holes all through them."

"Dyed bright orange!"

"With purple stripes!" The two boys started giggling as their wild theories about Sir Lot's socks got sillier, ignoring the snickers of the adults.

Kit put his hand on Will's shoulder, "He said 'the stocks', Will, not his 'socks'."

The two boys looked at Sir Kit curiously. "The stocks? Why was he talking about our cows, Sir Kit?" Merlin and Will both had the same look of bafflement on their faces. Will's grandparents both lost control of their laughs then. Even the boys' mothers started chuckling. Sir Kit just sighed, trying not to make the boys feel bad by laughing at their confusion.

"Boys, the stocks are a punishment device that most larger towns have and some smaller ones, too. Not all villages have them." He described the workings of the stocks and pillory to the boys, whose eyes got bigger as they listened in horror.

Both boys turned to each other when Kit was done and leaned into each other, whispering quieter than the adults could hear. They seemed to come to a conclusion and pulled apart, nodding. They reached their hands out and spit into them before shaking, sealing whatever deal they had just made, before they went back to the fireplace to whisper a little more.

"Do we want to know what they just came up with?" Kit asked his wife and Hunith.

Hunith just shook her head, "I don't. The less I know, the less I have to punish Merlin for."

Anna agreed with her friend. "Absolutely." She stood up. "I'll go get that tunic from, which knight was it, darling?" She nodded when he answered. "I'll have Will help me clean it. He can give it and his apology tomorrow before you leave."

The rest of the day went quickly. Chores were attended to. Sir Kit helped his father-in-law with a few of the heavier chores that his age was making it harder for him to perform, then did the same for Hunith since her man had disappeared before Merlin was even born. Dinner was quiet, just the three of them, relaxing and cherishing the rare moment of togetherness. Will, who was, according to him, too old to be tucked into his small pallet on the floor, held onto his father's hand as he lifted the wool blanket into place. His ma always gave him a kiss on his cheek, but his da always kissed his forehead and then raised that hand to rub his hair a bit.

"Good night, Will. I love you." Kit stood up and looked at his son's face, pale but peaceful in the dim moonlight.

"I love you, too, Da."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not set in Camelot, but I could just see Will and Merlin as kids cracking up about "the socks".
> 
> And for those of you wondering, the boys were swearing to jailbreak whichever of the two ever happens to get locked in the stocks or make sure they were stuck in them, too, if they couldn't break them out. The story would have been quite different if Will had come with Merlin to Camelot, eh?


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Set post-Season Five

The ball flew through the air, not aimed at all, but finding the perfect place to land, right on the crown of Jack's head. The force of the collision pushed his head down and he whacked his chin against the wood holding him in place. "Seriously?!"

"Sorry, Jack. It was completely unintentional." Morris grinned as he picked up the roughly made leather and feather construction. "We were just having a bit of fun. I'd ask you to join, but you seem tied up at the moment."

Jack glared at his friend. "You're an ass, Morris."

"Aw, come on. Is that any way to speak to your best friend in the whole world?" Morris placed his foot on the platform and hunched over a bit with the one arm on his knee and the other holding the ball. He continued, ignoring Jack's baleful glare, "So when does he get out of here?" he asked the guard. The guard was a newer man from one of the villages, not used to all of the market folk and their habit of informality so he ignored the direct question. "Ho, now, do you not speak?"

The guard's eyes shifted briefly to the young man in front of him. "Foot off the platform," he responded coldly.

"Well, of course, m'lawd." Morris made an elaborate bow as he stepped off the platform. "So when does he get out of there? It's a valid question."

"Morris, this one has no sense of humor," Jack drawled. "I think he has his spear shoved up his ass."

The guard's lips tightened and he gripped said spear a bit harder. Bailiff Anders had smirked a bit when he assigned him to watch over this particular miscreant. Now he understood why. The young man was an obnoxious git and his friends were no better.

Morris grinned, "Too bad. Although, I'm sure it makes standing here at attention for hours easier. Won't be tempted to lean, I guess."

"Morris, come on!" One of the other young men kicking the ball around finally gave up on waiting and walked over to swipe the ball from his hands. "Jack, find us when you're done." He looked at the man in the stocks. "How come you don't have shit in your hair?"

Jack grinned, "I think they're afraid if they pepper me with stuff my da won't sell them anymore ale."

He nodded. "Fair enough. Well, see ya!" He grabbed Morris by the elbow and started to drag him away.

Morris wrenched his arm away and waved as he and the others started kicking the ball between them on their way out of Camelot to one of the newly mown fields. Jack sighed just a little bit. He would so much prefer being there with them instead of here with someone who did a more than passable impression of a statue. Besides, the spot between his shoulder blades positively itched and he couldn't reach it. He should have asked Morris to do it for him before he was dragged away. His eyes caught the feet of the guard. "Hey, you, guard. Could you just scratch the middle of my back, please?"

The guard didn't respond. Didn't shift his eyes, or his weight, or anything that would even indicate in the slightest way that he'd heard Jack. Jack let out a bigger sigh. This was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after Annie and Morris are married. Jack and Morris are about 20. Come now, you didn't think settling down would actually make those boys grow up, did you? They have to get their soccer in, well, the medieval equivalent anyway.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Set in the week after Kilgarrah went on his rampage

"Ah, Merlin, I'm glad you're here. We need your expertise."

Merlin could only look at Uther in bafflement as he entered the Council chambers with the barley water and cider he was going to serve Uther, Arthur, and the various members of the council and staff that had gathered to meet about the repairs needed to the city after Kilgarrah's attack on the city. "Sire?"

"Yes, Bailiff Anders here was telling us about the damage to the stocks and pillory. I thought perhaps we should measure you for them, just to make sure they fit the person most likely to be found in them."

Somehow, Merlin managed to refrain from dumping the entire jug of cider over his king's head. After all, with the stocks a charred ruin, he would have ended up spending the night in the damp dungeons instead.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Set any time before, during, or after the series

Clang! Clang! Clang! The blacksmith's hammer fell upon the iron time and again, shaping it into a simple rounded strip. It was only two inches wide, and by the time he was finished with his pounding and tempering, only half an inch thick, but that scant span was sufficient to ensure the humiliation of all who came into contact with it.

To the blacksmith it was simply another job to be done quickly and well to retain royal favor. To the king it was a way to ensure order. To the people it was a reminder of their place in the power structure of Camelot.

To the law-abiding it was an opportunity to breathe a sigh of relief that they weren't the poor unfortunate. To the law-breaker it was time to reflect and, depending on temperament, either stew about perceived injustices or repent the offense that had landed them in the stocks.

Such a tiny thing to mean so much to so many.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Set in Season 5

Merlin ducked around the corner and flattened himself against the wall, trying to stay out of the view of Arthur as he craned his neck around looking for his errant manservant. He prayed to every one of the gods he could think of as he waited for Arthur to keep walking the other way. If he just had another half hour, he could finish retracing his steps and figure out just where he had misplaced the silver and jade green mirror, newly engraved with the Pendragon crest. Arthur had decided it would make the perfect gift for Gwen when he had seen it at the silversmith's shop the other day. Of course Merlin had lost it somewhere between picking it up and doing the other three errands Arthur had sent him on at the same time. Maybe it was in the library where he had returned the map of Gawant to Geoffrey.

After Merlin had stood in place for a few minutes, he let out a sigh of relief. He opened his eyes and stepped around the corner - right into the arms Arthur had folded over his chest. His heart nearly leapt into his throat.

"Merlin, where is the mirror?"

His mind blanked. "Um..." he replied brilliantly.

The king's glare could have stripped the skin from his body. He reached out and whacked Merlin on the back of the head. "Find it. Bring it to me. Now." He turned and stalked back toward his chambers.

Merlin blew his hair off his forehead. That went rather well, he thought to himself.

"And Merlin, you're in the stocks for two hours after you find it." the king tossed over his shoulder before he turned the corner of the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you do NaNoWriMo and hang out on the word wars and prompts forum you may have seen this as the response for one of the prompts to limber up before we really got into writing for November. If so, sorry.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Set in Season 5. Very AU. Merlin did something stupid, revealing his magic, probably washing floors or something. Let's assume Arthur actually took it well. At first.

"Merlin, if you tell me there's anything else you've been hiding from me, I swear you're spending the day in the damned stocks, magic or no!"

"Did I mention that I'm the one who hatched that white dragon we saw in the mines of Ismere?"

"…"

"Arthur? Arthur? Ow! Let go, you prat!"

"Sire, why are you dragging Merlin by his ear?"

"Because he's a cabbageheaded idiot who is going to spend the day thinking about everything he's ever done to annoy me, Leon."

"Arthur, you're- Ow! You're being unreasonable."

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Arthur!"

"Stocks for two hours or cells for a week? Because I'm a wise and just king I'll actually give you the choice."

"You couldn't last a week without- Bugger! That hurts!"

"Stocks or cells, idiot?"

"Arthur? What in the world is going on?"

"Hello, Guinevere. I'm just teaching Merlin here it's not wise to hide things from his king."

"Um, alright. Merlin, are you alright?"

"Oh, sure, Gwen, doesn't hurt a bit. Fu-"

"Stocks or cells? Last chance or it'll be both."

"Fine! Stocks, but only because the last time I left you for more than a day you managed to trash your rooms so badly it took two days just to set them to rights. I can only imagine what they'd look like if I was away for seven days."

"Don't worry, Merlin. Now I know you have a way to get your chores done in half the time. So, stocks and cells it is."

"Oh, come on!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Arthur won't leave him in the dungeon for a full week. He's practically helpless without Merlin.
> 
> Also, upon further research, I found that by the 1800s, France had a legal limit to how long a person could be in the pillory of 2 hours and the standard punishment in England was only an hour by then. I apologize to poor Merlin for sticking him in there for four hours in the last chapter. Kudos and thanks to a lovely reader on FFN for catching that. I'll be more careful going forward.
> 
> My mother used to tell me about one time she pissed off my grandfather and he gave her her choice of punishments; spanking or sitting on the porch watching her friends play. She was stupid enough to tell him she chose spanking so she could go back out to play. She ended up getting both punishments. That was all I kept thinking about as I wrote this.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Set not too long after Lancelot and Guinevere in Season 2

Lancelot decided that Merlin had somehow cursed him the third time he ended up in the stocks since parting ways with his friends after his aborted rescue of Gwen. Maybe it was just the world in general cursing him for reaching higher than he should have in life. At least this time he wasn't alone. The blond man sitting on the bench with his arms crossed in front of him looked as if he could just break the chains and get them both out of there instead of sitting out their punishment, he was that large a bloke. Lancelot tapped him on the shoulder, "So how long do they usually leave people in these around here? The guard never got around to telling me."

"No idea. This is the first time I've ever been through here. My master's trying to get me out, though."

Lancelot nodded. He introduced himself quietly. "Lancelot du Lac."

"Percival of Rhayader."

"You know, a friend of mine spends a lot of time in the pillory. I knew it was uncomfortable, but I never really imagined how bad it could be until just recently. So how did you end up in this thing?"

Percival grinned, "I was ungracious enough to decline the kind invitation of the local lord to join his brute squad."

"My friend, you are the brute squad."

Percival's grin grew wider. "And you?"

Lancelot colored slightly, the blush giving his swarthy complexion an interesting tone. "I interfered where I shouldn't have. A young lady was objecting to the affections of a customer at the tavern and I thought I was helping her. Unfortunately, both parties involved had influential friends who thought poorly of my involvement."

"Ah, you were the cause of the commotion that was going on at the Raven's Song when we arrived in town." Percival scratched his arm, dislodging some of the crud that had hardened there from the last time the boys in town threw things at them. "We were going to stay there, but Master Jacobsen decided to go on to another inn and avoid any trouble."

"How'd that work out for you?" Lancelot chuckled. "Sorry."

Percival shrugged and gestured with his chin toward the thin man approaching the stocks and pillory. "Here comes Master Jacobsen."

The man wrung his hands in a habit he had never been able to shake. "Perce, I wasn't able to get you freed early. You're stuck here until sundown."

"I understand, Master Jacobsen, it's only an hour or so." Percival nodded. "Shall I meet you at our rooms in the Lion's Tooth?"

"Yes, of course. We have a long way to travel still and I refuse to go without my best guard. Mikel is watching the wagon tonight." Percival had been traveling with him for a few years now. The men were on their way to Gloucester to meet with one of Jacobsen's kin to trade some of his wares. After a few more exchanges, the older man left the two young men in their punishment.

Percival's stomach made a rude noise and the two laughed. "I wish I'd asked him to get me something to eat, a meat pie or something, before he left."

Lancelot snorted, "Just pull some of the produce off your shoulder."

The time passed fairly quickly for the two men once they started talking. Percival and Lancelot recognized kindred souls in each other as they spoke about things both important and inconsequential. Percival seemed most interested when he heard that Lancelot had almost been a knight and was well-trained in the sword. "You know, we're looking for another guard. One who can actually swing a sword and hit something. Jan decided he wanted to settle down and marry a farmer's daughter the last town we went through. We were already down one after Peter decided he was happier tupping the tavern owner's daughter in Camelot. That was over three months ago."

"You've been through Camelot?"

"Yeah. Master Jacobsen had some business with the king."

Lancelot sat up straighter, "While you were there did you happen to notice a beautiful woman, she'd have been dressed as a servant, dark hair, dark skin?"

Percival shrugged. "Sorry, mate. Lots of beautiful women that I saw. I didn't pay attention to any in particular."

"How about a skinny, black haired servant who seemed to trip a lot?"

"Did he work for the court physician?"

Lancelot grinned, "Yeah, when the prince allows him to."

Percival nodded. "Saw him in passing. He nearly ran me over. Master Jaconsen wanted a physic from the physician for his angina."

"How did he seem?"

"Clumsy, from what I recall, but I only met him once." Percival's brow furrowed as he tried harder to remember the young man who had bowled into him as he waited for his master and the physician to be finished with their business. The boy had turned around as he bounced off Percival's body and thrown an apology over his shoulder. Gaius had just tutted as he watched the whole thing happen and apologized himself for his apprentice's clumsiness. "Had a bird name, I think. Some sort of falcon."

"Merlin."

"Yeah, that's it. My master knew his pretty well. I guess they-" Percival's words were cut off when the guard came to release them. He picked up after they were free. "Come to the inn with me. We can speak with Master Jacobsen and see if he'll take a chance on you."

Little did Percival know that this meeting in the stocks was to change his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is my take on how Percival met Lancelot. I was also sick of putting poor Merlin in the stocks.
> 
> Also, this is the story Percival tells Galahad about meeting Lancelot in "When Percival Met Galahad".


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

AU, set about 18 years after the Battle at Camlann

Merlin honestly never thought he'd say the words. Firstly because he never imagined he'd have the authority to ever do so and secondly because he just couldn't imagine doing to anyone else what had annoyed him so much in his youth. Yet, here he found himself uttering the words, "Put the four of them in the stocks for a few hours." Had the world gone catawampus? Was East now West and North now South? Would trees start blooming in the Winter and geese fly south in the Summer? He almost enjoyed the shock on Arthur's face as he suggested it. Of course, he always got a little thrill from shocking Arthur. It was so hard to do. Annoying him was easy. Drawing his scorn, even easier. But shocking him was something he hadn't managed to do since the king found out about his magic at Camlann.

"Merlin," he replied slowly, "Did you seriously just suggest that we put our sons in the stocks for a few hours?"

"Well, yes. Yes, I did." Merlin crossed his arms in front of himself and nodded resolutely, the idea strange to his tongue, but feeling right.

The bailiff looked from the king to the Court Sorcerer in stunned disbelief. "You want me to put the heirs to two thrones, the second son of Gawant, and the son of the Court Sorcerer in the stocks, m'lord?"

Gwaine and Elena looked at each other and shrugged. Elena smiled, "Deryn and Gareth are handfuls. Maybe a little time to reflect on what they did would serve them right, thinking it was just a fun thing to do to jump in and egg the other two on." Gwaine quickly looked down at the floor to hide his grin since he would have and still did think that was great fun.

"I say as long as part of the punishment is repairing the damages to the stalls they destroyed in their brawl, why not?" Gwen had her arms crossed in front of her, mirroring the position of her best friend, her temper about to explode at her annoyance with her eldest child. "Elyan will either learn to handle his temper, or I'll make sure he's cleaning stables for the rest of his natural life."

Mairwen grinned, "And Bal is no better. If he doesn't learn to control that temper of his, then it'll control him and his magic." She tapped her chin. "Of course, I have no idea where he gets his temper from."

Arthur snorted. "Equal measure, Mairwen. Equal measure. Don't even try to pin all of this on the cabbage head here." Arthur ignored Merlin's glare as he asked the bailiff, "Do we even have enough room for all four of the idiots?"

The bailiff shrugged, coming to terms with the idea of casting nobility and royalty in his stocks. After all, this was Camelot, and he'd learned over the years that nothing was ever normal in Camelot. "If we use the stocks and the pillory, yes. There are two of each, we just tend to not use both sets." He shook his head, "We generally don't need them."

The king sighed. "I cannot believe I'm actually agreeing with this. Bailiff Michaels, you have my permission to throw all four of them into the stocks and pillory for, um, let's say one hour. After that, they'll help rebuild the stalls they destroyed in the chaos they caused. If they haven't finished rebuilding today, then they are yours tomorrow until they finish."

"Yes, Sire." The bailiff looked a bit nervous. "Sire, I hope you don't think less of me, but I would appreciate it if one of you came with me to tell the miscreants. Frankly, I don't think they'll believe me and I really don't want to have to make the guards drag them to the stocks. That would send a bad signal to the populace. Better if they go willingly and accept their punishment with grace. And I doubt they'd accept anything like that with grace from me."

"Good point." Gwen stood up. "We'll go, their mothers. Trust me, those boys don't do anything with grace unless we make them." Elena and Mairwen nodded in agreement.

Elena chuckled. "We can give them The Look. Deryn and Gareth hate The Look, even if it's only effective for as long as it takes them to get out of my sight."

"That 'I'm so disappointed in you I can't even begin to describe it' look? Bal tends to just laugh it off, the little brat." grumbled Mairwen. "I wonder who I have to thank for that attitude?" She didn't even look back at her unrepentant husband as she led the ladies to the door, the bailiff following meekly behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this AU rewrites the end of the show. It is, in fact, the major AU 'verse that I'm using for my own post-show stories.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

It started with a simple sneeze. Just a sneeze. A trickle of dust in the nose that irritated and had to be expelled. The prince and his manservant were taking a leisurely stroll through the packed market when a passing horse kicked up some dust. That tiny bit of dust found its way into the nostrils of the prince and lodged there. He sniffed and turned his head away. Simple enough, get away from the source of dust swirling through the air as the horse passed, shaking its mane as it did so. At least, it would have been simple had the prince's manservant been paying closer attention to the prince and hadn't been distracted at that moment by a juggler attempting to break his own record by simultaneously keeping three balls, a mug, and a blunted knife in the air at the same time. He had been doing well thus far if the number of coins and pins in the hat by his feet were any indication.

Simple turned drastically wrong when the dust just had to go and the prince sneezed. His eyes closed and he paused where he was, right next to the sausage vendor. The manservant's eyes still glued to the juggler, he collided with his prince, who was nudged forward, into said juggler. The prince fell to the ground, taking the juggler with him, the juggler's implements falling from the air because no one was there to catch them and send them back up on their merry way.

One ball rolled under the feet of the manservant, who promptly joined his master and the juggler in a heap on the ground in the middle of the busy market. Another rolled under the feet of a passing lady, who held onto the arm of her beau. She recovered her balance nicely and smiled at him before they attempted to move on. However, they were blocked by the horse rearing up after the third ball had fallen and rolled right into the path of its owner, who slipped and dragged down on the reins of the pack-laden beast before releasing them as he thudded to the ground. The released reins snapped back and hit the poor animal on the nose, shocking the normally laid-back horse into a small shuffle backwards. The horse's rear backed into the stall across from the sausage vendor's as its front stopped any traffic from passing, including the young lady who had managed to keep her balance.

The prince and his shocked manservant watched as the stall with hot cider shuddered under the impact of the horse, spilling half of its wares onto the ground and some onto the haunches of the poor animal, shocking it even more as it reared up, then tried to escape the hot liquid. The horse plowed through the crowded market street, his owner fast on his heels as he tried to call the horse back. The people shopping at the market goggled and then ducked out of the way as they saw the horse bearing down on them. As they ducked out of the way, some ducked the wrong way and made more of a mess by slamming into market stalls of their own.

The candlemaker's stall was knocked into by a knight who had been on his way to visit his sweetheart a few streets away. He had been looking at the more expensive, sweet smelling candles to buy for her as an apology gift. The First Knight had made him go out on three patrols back to back for the last month because of a prank he had pulled on one of the other knights and he hadn't seen her in that whole month.

The entire stock of the wood carver's stall managed to find its way on the ground when a very large woman, who previously hadn't shown any great agility suddenly found in herself the ability to leap a prodigious five feet from the middle of the market street to the side of it. Regrettably, the space she chose to leap to was already occupied and the stall, which had been considered very strong, revealed it wasn't quite as sturdy as it first appeared.

From the ground, the manservant's eyes got larger as he stared at the disaster unfolding before him. The horse's owner ran after the horse, calling its name as the horse's flight through the market caused more crashes and screams of panic. The knight picked himself up from the ground, surrounded by candles, both broken and unharmed. The poor woman just laid on the ground, as stunned as the wood carver, who was holding the pieces of a delicate swan in his hands. The juggler had his hand on his head as he supported himself on one arm. He had smashed it on something, most likely the corner of the sausage maker's stall. The prince simply sat with his mouth agape for a minute before he turned his eyes on the servant, whose face turned very red as he shrugged and looked down.

The prince looked across the market and took in the chaos that had been caused by a simple sneeze and a bit of inattention. His eyes drifted past the stocks, sitting there, waiting for an occupant. He looked back at his servant, who was standing by this time and was helping the woman up from her prone position in the midst of a pile of wood. He sighed, realizing he couldn't do that for what truly was a freak accident. Pity. It would have been so much fun to chuck a few pieces of fruit at the servant's head.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has much to do with post-miscarriage, so if this is a trigger for someone, I'm sorry, and you may not wish to read it.

Set a few years before Arthur's birth

The harmless looking old woman in the stocks didn't give the king much pause when he walked into the market to buy a small gift for his wife. Igraine had been a bit depressed lately after her last miscarriage and he wanted to do whatever he could to make her cheerful again. It wasn't easy. The toll that her inability to carry a child was taking on her body was exhausting and huge. He had seen a tiny, carved dragon the last time he'd come through here and was hoping it was still for sale. Or if not for sale, at least able to be carved again.

The woodcarver was always happy to talk to King Uther. He was one of his best customers. The queen was a lover of all things carved out of wood for some reason, and Uther had a habit of finding little carvings to brighten her day. It was said he had a special carving made to accompany his proposal to her, but the woodcarver was never sure about that story. When he saw the king coming down the street, he smiled in anticipation. "Yer majesty! Fine day, isn't it?"

Uther smiled at the woodcarver, "It is, Jem. Hopefully, it'll be even finer if you have something I want today."

"Of course, Sire. Always the best for you and the Queen."

"I saw a small dragon here the other day. I was wondering if it might still be available." Uther looked at the wares and didn't see it, but he was still a bit optimistic.

Jem shook his head sadly, "I'm sorry, yer majesty. I sold it two days ago." He tilted his head. "Did you need it immediately?"

"I would have liked it immediately, yes. The queen has been feeling a bit under the weather and I wanted to cheer her up a bit."

Jem nodded his head. "I understand. Yer queen is a good one, she is. Kind, as well as beautiful." He looked at the carvings he had on display. "I regret I can't sell you that dragon today, but I do have this little doe and fawn carving she may like."

"Ah, no." Uther shook his head sadly. "Absolutely not that one."

Jem's eyes grew wide as he realized what the queen's ailment might be. "Right, yer majesty. Well, I started working on another dragon yesterday since they are so popular here in Camelot. If I push it, I could have it done by the end of the week, middle of next if I want to be my perfectionist self."

Uther smiled at the old man who had been selling his wares here for years. "That would be wonderful, Jem. Send it to the castle when it's done and I will make sure you get your normal commission fee." Uther took a deep breath. "It would be worth it to see my wife smile at your clever little carvings."

"Absolutely, yer majesty. I'm glad she takes pleasure as much in my work as I do making it." Jem bowed to his king behind his stall.

Uther pointed out a little falcon alighting on a tree branch and pulled out his purse, "For now, let me take that one. We'll leave the dragon as a surprise for her in the coming weeks, eh?" Jem grinned as he and the king settled in to haggle for the best price. Just because Uther was the king didn't mean the woodcarver wasn't going to make sure he paid a fair price, and if the king could afford to pay a little more than others, why shouldn't Jem get some of that money?

They both came away from the exchange satisfied, ignoring the amused smiles on the faces of Uther's guards. They always enjoyed Uther's time in the market. For some reason, the man who could be completely cold-hearted and stone-faced when dealing with most commoners had a good rapport with the merchants here in Camelot. None of them could explain it. It made no sense to them or any of the other guards who traveled with the king. As Jem wrapped the dainty piece of woodwork in the rough cloth he kept on hand to protect them, the king's gaze traveled around the market, landing on the old woman in the stocks, her feet set solidly in the iron bar in front of the rough bench.

"Jem, what did Mother do that got her punished by time in the stocks?" Usually the bailiff was gentler with older people, and this woman seemed set firmly in her Crone set of years.

"Ah, that's Mother Brooks. She was caught selling charms that weren't actually charmed."

"Fraud?" Uther accepted the package from the woodcarver, who nodded at his question.

"Yep. Your friend Gaius and his woman figured out that the fertility charms she was selling were nothing more than pretty rocks on strings. No magic involved, yet she claimed there was and charged for the spells. Apparently, she took advantage of quite a few women who are barren." Jem shook his head. "Pity, to do that to a desperate woman. The bailiff has her in for the limit." Jem started rearranging his stock to make up for the now-removed falcon piece. "He's having the guard make sure she's alright, given her age, but she still has to stay in there. At least it's not the pillory."

Uther nodded solemnly. He was having the idea of barrenness pushed at him every day and every time Igraine lost a child. He knew how hard it was for him. He could still only imagine how hard it was for his beloved wife and any other woman who had to deal with it. "A lesson learned for her, then. And, unfortunately, for the women she swindled."

"Aye, yer majesty." Jem smiled wanly, more pursing his lips as he sighed than smiling. "Give Her Majesty my best, Sire. Tell her I hope she feels better soon." He shrugged, "I'll have the dragon done for her next week."

Uther nodded as he returned his own wan smile, "Thank you, Jem. I'll make sure to pass on her message." He turned away from the woodcarver and looked solemnly at Mother Brooks, not even knowing what to say to the woman. Normally if someone was in the stocks, he'd go over and try to reinforce the punishment if it was for something dire, or mock the person a bit if it wasn't. Today, he could do nether, so he just shook his head and walked away, back toward the citadel and his grieving wife.

He was stopped more than once on his way to his quarters. First by the seneschal, then by his First knight, then by Gorlois. Gorlois was the only one he spent any time actually talking to. His own wife, Vivienne, had recently lost a child herself, though much further along, and was the person Igraine had turned to for comfort. The two women had created an almost impenetrable front against their two husbands that both were working to get past. "Uther, how is Igraine today?"

Uther just shook his head after he had dismissed his guards. They weren't going to give him any trouble over it, leaving him alone with his oldest and closest friend. "Still sad. Still grieving." He gestured with the small package in his hand. "I found something at the market that might make her smile. I hope, anyway." They started walking towards the king's chambers as Gorlois nodded. "VIvienne? How is she doing?"

Gorlois' mouth twisted, "She's sitting with Igraine still, and not talking to me all that much."

Uther bowed his head. Neither wife was going to recover quickly from their losses. Neither husband truly knew what to do to help them. Uther wasn't even sure there was anything he could do. Nothing that Gaius had done seemed to make any difference in Igraine's ability to carry a child. Uther certainly wanted a child to carry on his name, but he wasn't the one being pressured by the vipers in the court about his ability to make Igraine pregnant. No, she was the bearing the brunt of all of the rumors and innuendo. Gorlois had already had a daughter, even if she had died when she was only a wee babe. Igraine still hadn't carried any child to term.

They reached the door of the king's chambers, nodding to the guards as they opened the door for the two men. Igraine and Vivienne were seated by the window, enjoying the sunlight as they stitched and wove. Vivienne had some sort of tapestry she was working on, while Igraine had some more practical sewing in her lap. She was stitching a seam that Uther had popped in his gambeson the last time he had practiced on the training field with Sir Ector. "Darling, the laundresses can take care of repairing my clothing. You don't need to do that. You should be working on something beautiful, just like you."

"I'm not an ornament, Uther."

"No, no, of course you aren't. I just meant you should be relaxing, not doing work." Uther knew how much his wife hated being treated like a brainless bauble and tried his best to get his foot out of mouth.

Igraine fixed a glare on her husband. "I would still be stitching. Still be using the same hand and the same motion. Why not do something useful and let the maids and laundresses attend to more important work?"

Uther nodded, knowing when to quit an argument with his wife before it became an actual fight. "You are absolutely right, my dear. Besides, this means I know the work will have been done with extra care and attention because my loving wife did it for me." He stealthily laid the package on the windowsill behind her as he laid his hand on her shoulder and bussed her cheek.

Igraine lifted an eyebrow at him and asked, "Did you not hear me say the maids and laundresses had more important work than repairing your gambeson?" The gentle teasing made him smile as he caught a glimpse of his wife from before the many miscarriages had taken their toll on her sense of humor.

"But surely nothing can be more important than taking care of their king and ensuring his safety and welfare."

"You had better watch that conceit of yours, darling. If your head swells too much, we won't be able to get you through the doors of the throne room."

Uther ignored the quiet chuckles of his friends as he continued trying to draw his wife out of her shell, even if it was at his own expense. "But, Igraine, you're the clever one. You'd find a way."

Igraine shook her head at her husband. "I am not knocking a wall out of this citadel just to roll your fat head somewhere. You wouldn't even be able to fit the crown over your head."

Uther took his wife's hand and kissed her knuckles gently. "What would I do without you to keep me and my fat head grounded?"

Gorlois and Vivienne left their chambers shortly afterward. It was a quiet night, with dinner served to the royal couple in their chambers. Uther dismissed Igraine's maid and took care of her duties that night, wanting to be alone with her. His own manservant was a little harder to convince, so he simply ordered the man out peremptorily. After he had brushed his wife's long hair out, he gave her the little wooden carving he'd picked up at the market earlier that day.

"Oh, Uther, it's gorgeous. Jem really outdid himself this time." She walked over to place it on the mantle with the other little carvings she'd fallen in love with. Her fingers smoothed over the tiny bumps and grooves carved into the wood.

"I hoped you'd like it. It's been a rough time for you and I just want to see you smile again." He cupped her cheek. "I love your smile."

Igraine sighed. "I know I've been impossible lately. I'm sorry."

"No. No. Not impossible, Igraine. You, well, we lost our child. Grief is natural." He put his arms around her as he pulled her into his arms to hold her while she cried. "I wanted our son just as much as you."

Igraine tilted her head back to look at her husband. "And if he had been a she? If I ever carry a child and it turns out to be a daughter, will you want her just as much?"

Uther smiled gently. "I will love whatever child we have. Do I hope for a son to carry on my legacy? Yes. Absolutely. But if you only have a daughter I will love her just as much. I'll just make sure she marries Gorlois' son if he ever has one."

Igraine hit his shoulder and shook her head at her husband. "Impossible man."

"I love you, Igraine. When we finally have a child I will not love you any more or less than I already do. I can't possibly do so because you already have my entire heart but for the piece I reserve for our child." Uther dried his wife's tears as he told her this. "Come to bed. You are tired and spent an exhausting day sewing up rips in my clothing."

Igraine tilted her head and nodded, yawning. She hadn't done anything physically taxing in the last few weeks, but her mental state was wearing on her. Uther knew from experience that she would probably be like this for another month or so before she was able to pull herself out of her melancholy. She lay down as Uther loosened the ropes holding the bed curtains back. As he did so, something fell onto the bed. He reached in and picked it up before Igraine could grab it. "What's this?" he asked, looking at the crystal wrapped with rawhide to a longer piece of hide.

"It's nothing. Let me have it." Igraine tried to pluck it from his hand but he held it out of her reach.

"Igraine?" Uther put the kingly steel in his voice to let Igraine knew she wouldn't get around answering him.

She sighed. "It's a charm. I bought it last week when Vivienne and I went down to the market. It's supposed to help women conceive." Uther looked from his wife to the useless charm, wondering if he should just tell her about Mother Brooks and her admitted fraud and time in the stocks. Before he could decide, Igraine managed to get hold of the charm and reached up to replace it in its position above the bed. "If it helps, it'll be worth the price, Uther." Stubborn determination filled her voice, more forceful than anything he'd heard in the last few weeks and actually gave him a shred of hope. He never wanted to hurt her. If letting her believe a worthless trinket possessed the magic to make everything better, then so be it.

"Absolutely, my darling. Anything that helps us have a child will be worth the price."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another Uther isn't such a bad guy (yet) story.
> 
> I know I glossed over much of the resulting depression that a miscarriage can cause. I can't and won't go into details about miscarriages in this or any of my other stories. They were ridiculously common in the medieval times thanks to the general level of ill health for women. They're still not uncommon. People just don't talk about them much, even now.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Set a year or two before Season 1

"Tag! You're it!"

"Hey!"

The small mob of children wove in and out of the yawning and chattering crowd shopping at the market. The tallest had an advantage because he could see more of the gaps and swipes aimed at his cohorts as they dodged sellers with baskets of goods or people shopping for their morning essentials. Of course, this also meant the tiniest children could dodge into the smallest gaps to get away from him.

All would have been well if one of the littles hadn't bobbed into the path of the two knights picking their way through the crowd. She tripped as she passed the knifeseller's stand and fell right into the shortest of the two. Even that would have been nothing worse than what normally occurred at the market if the man hadn't just happened to be accepting a newly sharpened dagger. The dagger slipped through his fingers as the little girl plowed right into his legs. The knight tripped into his companion, while the little girl fell sprawled onto the ground, the dagger sticking, point-down, barely two inches from her tiny hand.

"You clumsy girl! You could have been hurt! Why were you running?" the knight yelled at her as he knelt down and picked up the knife, quickly putting it back into it's sheath at his belt. "I swear, I should have you put in the stocks for this. Where are your parents? You're going to get the hiding of a lifetime."

"Relax, Kay, the little girl is fine. It was an accident."

The knight glared up at his companion for speaking up. "I can see she's fine, Bors, but she could have been hurt." He looked back down at the little girl, who had started sniffing and had tears trickling from her eyes. He reached out and held her by the shoulders. "You can't run like that in the market, little one." He reached out and wiped away a tear. She reminded him of the son he'd lost to fever the winter before. As he stood, he picked her up. "We're going to bring you to your parents, child. What's your name?"

The little girl shook her head and buried it in his cloaked shoulder.

Sir Kay turned to the knifeseller, who had watched the incident quietly, "Do you know her parents, Shep?"

"They run the sausage stand, my lord. Margie and Colm."

"Thank you. I'll drop her off and have a word with them and then be back to pay you."

"Don't worry, Kay. I'll pay him for you. You can pay me back later."

"Thanks, Bors."

Kay made his way through the crowd to the sausage vendors, gathering curious stares he got as he carried a little ragamuffin against his bright red cloak. He pushed his way to the side of the stall, calling out, "Margie? Colm?"

They both looked away from their customers, surprised a knight would know their names, their eyes widened as they saw he carried their youngest daughter. Margie darted to the side and reached out for her. "Oh my gods, is she alright? What happened? Linnet!"

Kay let her mother take her and watched as she did the quick check that every parent masters to find any new bruises and injuries. "She's fine. She was running through the market and tripped over me right in front of the knifeseller's stand. She knocked the dagger from my hand as she ran into me, but she didn't get cut."

"Oh, no. Colm." Margie squeezed her daughter tighter as her husband put his hand on the little girl's back and enclosed his wife's shoulder with the other.

"Mummy!" Linnet squeaked from the force of the hug.

"Hush, little bird. You probably scared the poor knight. Why were you running? You were told to stay by the stocks with the other children." Colm shook his head. "Where is your brother? That boy was supposed to be watching over you."

Linnet peeked up, "Ren was 'it'. He was trying to catch us."

Both of her parents' eyes narrowed. They had seen the passage of the small group of children but had been too busy to notice if their own children had been at the core of it. Margie put her daughter down and turned her to face Sir Kay, "Apologize to the knight, now."

The little girl peeked up from the ground and nodded. "Yes, mummy." She looked up at Sir Kay, "I'm really sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to scare you."

Sir Kay had to bite his cheek to not smile at the miserable little girl in front of him, and nodded. "I accept your apology, Linnet. You must be careful in a crowd. Don't run like that again." He reached down and his hand ghosted over her hair, "And my name is Sir Kay." He looked up at her parents and asked, "Am I correct in assuming the other miscreants would probably have gathered at the stocks as the safe place?"

Colm agreed, "That's where they were supposed to be to begin with. The children of the vendors tend to sit around it blathering while they do chores, unless someone's in it." He turned back to check on his stall quickly. "I think I'll take a walk over there and grab my son."

"I'll go with you. I think I want to have a word with them about being careful."

The two men reached the stocks in a matter of minutes, Kay's normally friendly demeanor having been replaced with a stern and official look that cleared the way effectively. Colm just followed in his wake, impressed that he'd gotten through the morning crowd as quickly as he had, but angrier at his son than he could ever remember being. The children were all sitting around the platform, chores in hand, looking as innocent as they ever could have. They all looked up at the two men curiously. None of them had noticed Linnet falling.

"Papa? Did you need something?" Ren nodded to the knight in front of him, but he was more curious about his father's presence.

Colm's eyebrow raised, "Have you misplaced something, Ren?"

Ren looked around, suddenly realizing Linnet hadn't made it back to the platform with the group. "Oh, no." He jumped up. "Linnet!"

Sir Kay reached out and grabbed the boy's shoulder. "Your sister is fine, but according to your father, you were responsible for her. She was almost badly injured." Kay turned to Colm, "Normally, if one of my young knights is so irresponsible, we punish him with the worst chores we can possibly come up with and give him the worst sentry duty, if not make him go through training all over again. What do you want his punishment to be?"

Colm got a smirk on his face. "You know what, he's already conveniently at the stocks."

"Papa!"

Colm thrust his finger in Ren's face, "Linnet almost got cut by Sir Kay's dagger. Yes, she shouldn't have been running and your mother will make sure she's not sitting for a time, but you were supposed to watch over her, not let her get away with playing like that. You're five years older than she is. You're the oldest of all of these kids. That's why we have you watch them. You're supposed to be the most responsible. Now you will have to take responsibility for your mistake." Colm turned back to Kay, "Sir Kay, as one of the vendors, I ask you to put this boy in the stocks for a time as punishment."

Kay nodded. "I'll get the bailiff and a guard."

By the time he had returned, all of the other children had slunk off to their parents' stalls with strict instructions not to move from their sides for the rest of the day. Ren looked truly miserable. Colm didn't look much better, but he remained determined. The guard kept his face inscrutable as he latched the boy's legs into the stocks. They were so thin, he wouldn't have to work hard to wiggle out, but that was the reason for the guard.

Kay waved the guard and Colm over, "I think an hour should be sufficient, Colm. He already looks like he wants to crawl into his mother's apron."

Colm nodded. "I'm not sure if I don't want to myself. I think an hour might be all I can stand."

The guard smiled briefly, "I'll bring him back to you myself, Colm."

"My thanks, Jamie."

"And I think I'll stop any produce from flying, if that's alright, Sir Kay. The lad's miserable enough."

Colm shook his head. "No, Jamie. He has to truly be punished. The little ones were his responsibility." Colm drew in a deep breath. "Maybe just let him get hit a few times. No rocks, though, please."

Jamie nodded. "As you wish, Colm. He is your boy."

"You disagree, don't you?"

Jamie shook his head, "No, actually, I don't. I just thought it would be easier on you."

Kay snorted, "There's no way this can be easy on a parent, Jamie. The kid will be furious with him after he gets over his misery."

Colm shrugged. "I'll deal with that. He's a good boy. Really, he is, but this mistake could have been costly. Thank you for being so good about this, Sir Kay."

Kay inclined his head toward the simple sausage maker. He had spent the better part of an hour dealing with a situation usually left with the guards. "I would say it was my pleasure, but I don't think I can call it that. I am sure I will see you again." With that, he turned toward the citadel to find Bors so he could give him the coins he owed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty much all OCs, but Sirs Kay and Bors are at least legendary knights.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Set sometime in Season 5

"Merlin, why are you sitting in the dark? In the dungeons? I haven't put you in here lately."

"Did you know that it is nearly impossible to find a quiet place to relax in this castle? It's always busy. If I'm not getting told off by you, then it's Audrey for daring to get food from the kitchens for you. Gaius' quarters are out because people are always bopping in and out of them looking for him. If they don't find him, then I end up taking care of the easier ailments because I'm his apprentice. If he is there, then he has endless tasks for me to do. Your quarters are no good because someone is always looking for you and I'd end up dealing with their issue or finding you to deal with it. The Armory is out because the knights and guards are always slamming in and out of there, and Geoffrey stares at me suspiciously if I try to read in the library. If it wasn't raining, I probably would have volunteered to gather herbs for Gaius, but it's miserable out there right now. How did you find me, anyway?"

"Leon saw you heading down this way and asked who I'd put in the dungeons that you had to feed. Since I knew I didn't put anyone down here, I figured I'd find out what you were up to, especially since you missed serving the Council meeting because you supposedly had other chores."

"Chores for you which I finished before I came down here."

"I'm sure I could have found more chores for you to do. I had to deal with George."

"At least he couldn't tell you any jokes while you were in Council. Besides, you've told me before that he's a better servant then I am."

"Merlin."

"Agravaine's on your back about the taxes again, isn't he? And you just want to avoid him."

"Shut up and budge over, Merlin. Are those Mary's honeycakes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No stocks today, folks, but it just pleases me to imagine our boys having to get creative to relax and avoid their responsibilities in a busy castle.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Set in Season 1, Early Autumn

"Ranald, I know I've told you this before, but you have to stop drinking as much as you do. It's not good for you at all. You'll kill yourself at this rate." Gaius mixed the medicine the younger man was supposed to take into the water Merlin had started boiling as soon as they got to the shabby hut. Ranald may have been a few decades younger than the court physician, but to Merlin's eyes, he looked much older.

Ranald smiled wearily at the robed man, "But, Gaius, nothing else stops the screams."

Gaius sighed and nodded. "Just try not to start a fight next time. Spending time in the stocks isn't doing you any good."

As they left, Merlin turned and watched the man Gaius had just treated stare longingly at the tankard that was sitting on his table before picking up the leather and needle next to it. He waited until they were a bit down the road before he asked, "Gaius, what did he mean by 'the screams'?"

Gaius shook his head and spoke quietly as they passed other people on the street. "I'll tell you when we get home. We still have Lady Kirdall to see and this is a conversation best had in private."

Dropping off Lady Kirdall's tonic was quickly accomplished and the two men were back at Gaius' chambers within the hour, a simple lunch of bread, cheese, and early apples on the table. Arthur was ensconced in meetings with his father and the Council all day and had given Merlin the day off, which, of course, meant that he was free to do Gaius' bidding all day. Honestly, Merlin didn't mind as long as Gaius didn't have him clean that wretched leech tank. For one thing, Gaius didn't chuck things at his head. He also didn't have to worry that he was going to get so nervous around the king that he dropped something on him. Merlin wasn't ashamed to admit that the king just plain scared him, even after three months of living here in Camelot.

Thinking of being scared made him remember Ranald, the leather-worker Gaius had treated earlier. "Gaius, you told me you'd tell me what was wrong with Ranald."

Gaius looked up at Merlin, his eyes shadowed. "It's not a pretty tale, Merlin, and has everything to do with the Purge."

Merlin was still trying to find his footing in Camelot, the home of the most strident magic-hater he had ever encountered. The Purge was something he wanted to know more about but feared at the same time. Gaius had been parceling out the history of it a bit at a time so he didn't overwhelm the warlock. Merlin nodded. "If I'm to really be your apprentice and not just a placeholder, then this might be something I need to know. How else will I treat Ranald if I don't know what the problem might be?"

"Very well." Gaius took a long drink of his barley water, as if to steady his own nerves. "Ranald was once a guard. He was a damned good one. Frankly, if he was noble, he would have been knighted by Uther." Merlin started at that. He was used to hearing nothing but disdain from Uther about the common folk. "When the Purge happened, Ranald was at least on his way to becoming Captain of the Guard. He had even saved Uther from bandits once when the king was out riding with some of his knights and guard. Only Ranald and Sir Ector survived that encounter after saving Uther.

"The Purge changed it all for Ranald. He was happily married with a little son and another on the way when it started. His wife gave birth to their second child a few months after Arthur was born. Then a sickness hit Camelot. It was an ague, normal for the winter, but it took a lot of people, including Ranald's two children. The King and Council blamed the Druids. It was so soon after the Purge started that I didn't dare object too strenuously. I was still under suspicion by the Council." Gaius shook his head. "I wonder if I had taken the risk to say more of it being a natural thing, if fate would have been different, but-"

"I doubt the king would have listened to you."

"You're probably right, but I still have to wonder. Anyway, back to Ranald. I wasn't able to save his sons. He and his wife were devastated. She just drifted away. She may have only died a few years ago, but really, the life left her twenty years ago. They never had any other children. As retribution for the Druids supposedly sending the sickness to Camelot, Uther ordered an attack on one of the Druid villages that hadn't broken up yet. They were just starting to hide in camps in the forests. Ranald led the guards on the attack. Sir Ector led the knights. Ector told me that he found Ranald after the slaughter, because that's what it was, holding an infant's body. Ranald had been the one to kill the babe. This, so soon after his own children died, broke him. Ector got him back to Camelot but Ranald turned in his resignation from the guard shortly afterward. He just couldn't do it anymore. The guilt was killing him."

Gaius took another drink. He shook his head as if to rid himself of sad memories before he continued. "Ranald's father was still alive and took him back into the family business, leatherworking. But it was really too late. Ranald drinks to silence the screams of the children he killed during the Purge. He starts fights in the taverns and ends up stuck in the stocks. I treat him for arthritis. His injuries from his time as a guard have caught up with him, so now he adds the joint pain to his list of things to drink away."

"So, he feels guilty." Merlin frowned, "I'm not sure if I should feel sorry for him or not. He killed innocent people."

"And I let innocent people die by not getting all of them out of Camelot. None of us are blameless in the Purge, Merlin." Gaius took a deep breath. "The thing about war is that no one gets out of it without blood on their hands. And it was a war. I stayed here in Camelot and tried to help magic-users get out, but to many who didn't see that, I am a traitor. I am one of Uther's friends. I always have been and I always will. He was, and still is or can be, a good man. He's just very mistaken in his beliefs. I believe in Camelot, Merlin. I believe in her people. I have done things that would not please either side, though. So will you in protecting Arthur."

Merlin stared into his mentor's eyes, shaded with grief and fatigue. Gaius was right. Merlin had seen enough of the magic in the country to know that there were evil magic-users as well as good. He just wasn't sure where he would draw his line in the sand. What would Merlin determine to be the thing he couldn't do to save Arthur and his destiny? He knew he'd have that question presented to him one day. He just wasn't sure when it would be and what his answer would be.

The next time Ranald needed his medicine, Gaius sent Merlin out to deliver it. Ranald was just stumbling home from a stint in the stocks, debris littering his body. Merlin helped the older man into his hut before he put him into his tiny cot. Ranald mumbled a brief thanks before he fell asleep, still dressed in the filthy clothing. Looking around, it appeared he only had two sets of everyday clothes. Merlin quickly went to fetch some water from the well down the road and set about making the medicine up for the sleeping man. He figured he'd just leave it, ready to be drunk, on the table. As he waited for the water to boil, he set about tidying up the hut. Cleaning a hut was far easier than cleaning for the prince. The dirt was swept out the door into the street. The bits of leatherworking he left where they were.

As Merlin was scrubbing the table in the corner of the room, he heard whimpers from the man on the cot. The water was nearly boiling but he didn't want to leave Ranald having nightmares. When Merlin shook the old man's shoulder he had to quickly jump back to avoid the hand thrown in his direction. "It's just me, Ranald. Merlin. Gaius' apprentice."

Ranald's bleary eyes matched his voice when he finally spoke and focused on Merlin. "Sorry, boy. Thought you were part of my dream."

"Um, your medicine will be ready in a few minutes." Merlin helped him sit up before he went back to the pot on the hearth.

"You don't think much of me, do you, boy?" Merlin's shoulders tightened. How was he supposed to answer that? "You think I'm an old drunk."

Merlin turned and faced the former guard as he pulled the pot off the hearth and poured the water over the powdered medicine Gaius had prepared. "Gaius told me why you drink and start fights. I've never had to deal with what you have, so I don't want to judge you."

"But you do. Judge me, that is." Ranald's mouth was tilted up in a slight grimace. "Can't blame you, I guess. Not really." He sat down at the table and ran his hand over the filthy front of his clothes. "I've done things I'm not proud of. Hurt people."

Merlin wanted to ask him. He wanted to know if Ranald hated magic-users. He wanted to know if Ranald really thought a babe-in-arms could be evil just because he might use magic at some point in the future, even of he did regret it afterward. He wanted to ask him if he would have killed Merlin and his mum if they had been in that village. But he couldn't. Merlin had to live here. Live with all of these people, most of whom would condemn him in a heartbeat if they even thought he possessed magic. He couldn't let himself think that none of his new friends would support him if they ever found out. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, Ranald."

Ranald had been silent while Merlin's thoughts raced. He hadn't expected an answer from the young man in front of him. He picked up the medicine and winced at both the heat and the bitter taste "Gaius needs to learn how to make his medicines taste better."

Merlin's mouth lifted in a smirk. "Agreed, but I think he likes making them taste terrible." Ranald finished the drink off quickly. Better to just get it over with. Merlin took the mug from the table and rinsed it out with some of the water he had left in the pot. "Gaius said this one will make you sleepy. It's stronger than your normal medicine, so let's get you back in bed. Do you want to change your tunic first?"

"Probably a good idea." Ranald pulled the dirty one off his body, exposing the scars that criss-crossed his torso. He saw Merlin staring in mild shock at the longest one and snorted. "Got that one saving the king." He pulled the slightly cleaner tunic over his chest and shrugged before he went back to the bed and lay down, turning to face the wall before he fell back to sleep, ignoring Merlin's presence completely.

Merlin picked up the soiled tunic and looked back at Ranald's already snoring form. He shook his head with wonder at how the man could fall asleep so quickly. It must be a holdover from his guardsman days, because he saw some of Arthur's men do the same thing when they were all camping on patrol. Merlin wondered if he'd ever pick up the trick. For now, he decided to wash the worst of the grime off the tunic in his hand. There was still some warm water left in the pot, after all. As he quickly washed and rinsed the tunic, he couldn't help staring at Ranald. He didn't know what to think. The man snarled at all the little children he saw, especially when they threw fruit at him in the stocks, but he obviously knew how to be nice to people. He got drunk as a skunk on a regular basis and threw punches at random strangers, but Merlin had seen him forego his drink to get his work done the first time he'd been here with Gaius. He had nightmares, but could still fall asleep in a moment. His leatherworking looked excellent from what Merlin saw on his workbench, but he couldn't care less about his hut or appearance. When the tunic was cleaned Merlin hung it from the beam near the hearth.

He still hadn't figured out the man on the bed. Maybe he never would. Maybe it was just Camelot itself. Beautiful for the most part, but with an ugly side Merlin could never forget. Merlin decided all he could do was hope that the ugly side would dissipate when Arthur was on the throne and Albion's bright future happened. He thought of what Gaius said about doing unpleasant things to protect Arthur, and decided he would try his hardest not to hurt innocents to protect the prince. He didn't want to end up with the same types of regrets that Gaius and Ranald had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one got away from me, and it was supposed to be something quick because the chapter I was originally working on went totally off the rails. This one is for one of my FFN readers, since she wanted to see more of Ranald. So did I, but it took me a while to come up with a decent idea.
> 
> I see Camelot as being completely contradictory in general. The people could be amazingly kind and amazingly cruel. I hope my flawed character of Ranald can be seen the same way. I dislike perfect characters. They are completely unrealistic and boring to read about. I want to see the cracks and crevices. At this point Merlin is pretty innocent. The world is still black and white. Growing up changes that.


	29. Chapter Twenty-NIne

Set about ten years after Season 5

Merlin was pretty sure this was revenge for all the years he kept his magic hidden. Even though the composition of the Council had changed over those years, there were still one or two holdouts like Sir Ector. They were the ones who insisted that Merlin sit down with them and explain in detail exactly what the latest magical threat had done and meant to do. The Prat, excuse me, His Royal Highness, King Arthur, had skedaddled about an hour into the annoyingly long Council session, claiming that his lack of exact knowledge about magic meant he was useless. Merlin was sure he had seen Arthur grinning as he left the Council room to go meet with Leon about knightly stuff. Once the Council was finally done asking every inane question they could, Merlin escaped. Really, those were supposed to be some of the wisest men around. Lord Geoffrey was on the Council and he had actually answered half of the questions before Merlin could. Why hadn't they just asked him in the first place? Again, Merlin could only conclude that this was some form of revenge for hiding his magic for so long.

Merlin hurried toward his quarters. He and Mairwen had claimed one of the towers as theirs once their family started growing. If he could just make it to the door to the tower he would be safe from being bothered. Generally, only their friends would approach them there. He was so close when he heard it, "Ah, Merlin. I wondered if I might speak with you."

He turned to find Leon standing here, a smile on his face. "Of course, Leon. What can I do to help you?" Merlin quietly waved his peaceful time with his family goodbye as he followed Leon back down to the tiny office the First Knight had by the Armory to go over patrol routes and known areas of infestation of magical creatures, both harmless and harmful. It took over an hour before he was able to get away from his friend, especially since Percival showed up with Galahad and they spent time showing the boy exactly what they were doing as an impromptu lesson for the young knight-in-training.

He departed the office to find George waiting for him. He had promised to hex George if he called him anything but his name, so he stopped when he heard him call him. "Merlin, I need your help."

Merlin sighed, "Yes, George. How can I help?"

"There is something in one of the supply rooms and I can't figure it out. It keeps making a mess of things. It must be magical."

Merlin's brows met in the middle as he tried to mentally run through the lists of magical creatures that might play pranks on humans. "Let's go take a look."

Another hour later, Merlin left George and the brownie that had taken a liking to the supply room together to hash out an organization scheme that would please them both. Merlin warned George not to call the honey and cream he'd leave for the brownie a payment or the harmless creature would leave. Merlin shook his head at the idea that there were people like George in every species.

With everything that had been going on today, he'd missed lunch, and his stomach was not happy. A detour to the kitchens was definitely in order. Audrey stood there, spoon at the ready to smack his hand as he approached her with what he hoped was his most charming smile. "And what do you want?"

"I was so busy that I missed lunch, Audrey. I was wondering if I could just have some bread and fruit? After all, Arthur has made me promise to eat every meal."

Audrey grumbled as she put together a small plate. Merlin wasn't lying. Arthur had made his displeasure known many times over when Merlin skipped meals. After all, it didn't look very impressive if the Court Sorcerer was laid out on the floor in a dead faint because he was silly enough to just not eat. "Here. Next time, call for something, you daft wizard."

Merlin popped a quick kiss on her cheek and, just as quickly, hopped out of range of her spoon when she swung it at him. "You're wonderful, Audrey! Thank you." Merlin escaped the kitchen with food in hand and no new bruises, so that was a win. He started chewing on the bread on the plate when he ran into Arthur. Neither said anything as the king fell into stride with Merlin as he walked toward the tower, until Arthur sneaked one of the apples off Merlin's plate. "Oi! That's my lunch."

Arthur offered the apple he'd just taken a bite out of and spoke so elegantly with his mouth full, "Want it back?"

"Ugh! I thought you were supposed to be raised with manners." Arthur just shrugged and the two walked in companionable silence through the castle.

Finally, Merlin reached the door to his tower and opened it, Arthur following him up the winding stairs. "You are going to hate this place once arthritis kicks in. You know that, right?"

Merlin just laughed. "I'll just work on spells to make me fly, then." Arthur snorted.

The door to the family's chambers was closed but Merlin could still hear the shrieking behind it. "Sounds like the whole castle is being tortured in there," Arthur mumbled.

Merlin grinned as he pushed the door open and the volume rose to near deafening levels. The kids inside noticed him and the king and swarmed over them. A few of them belonged to each and then there were the strays that belonged to their friends. Mairwen rose from her seat with Lance in her arms and gently waded through the tiny mob. She gave him a kiss and handed the baby over to him before she shooed all but Mim away from him. Merlin knelt down and gathered his youngest daughter in his other arm. "Happy birthday, Mim. You were asleep when I left this morning. I've been trying to get back here earlier all day, but I got too busy."

"That's alright, Da. Everyone else has been around. Uncle Arthur is here twice already. But now you're here." Mim looked just like her mother, with her red hair and freckles all over her face. The only physical trait she had of Merlin's was his eye color. She hugged him tightly as she put her hand over the one holding Lance. Mim liked to spoil her little brother.

The mob of children slowly dispersed, with parents coming to get them or the older ones just running off to create mayhem and chaos around the castle. Finally, Merlin was left with just his wife and the youngest three of the children. Bal had run off with Elyan and Merlin, frankly, didn't want to know what they were up to. They were whispering to each other before they left and that was never a good sign. Let it be Arthur's turn to catch them in their mischief. Mim was curled up by his side as he leaned against the table in the room. The floor was cold, but he was warm enough, and tired enough, to not care. He was just about to fall asleep to the peaceful sounds of his children and wife talking when he felt Mim tug on his hand. "Da, I forgot to show you my birthday present from Uncle Arthur."

"Well, then, go get it so I can see it." He watched Mim pull a small wooden box from the other side of the room. It was almost too big for her. "Want me to get it, Mim?"

"No. I have it." Merlin wasn't quite sure if the stubbornness came from him or Mairwen, but his children had it in spades. He relaxed back against the table as she dragged it across the room, so proud of herself when she got it next to them. "Uncle Arthur and Aunt Gwen got me dolls, Da. But they're special dolls." She opened the box, the lid obscuring his view of the inside. As she pulled dolls out, Merlin saw what she meant about them being special. They had each been made to look like Merlin and the other adults in Mim's life. "Here's you, Da." She handed Merlin the fabric doll that was unmistakably supposed to be him. It even had the little neckerchief he still refused to stop wearing. Merlin saw Gwen's work in the tiny clothes sewn onto the bodies of the dolls.

"These are brilliant, Mim."

"I know. And look, they even have little things to go with them." Mim pulled out a feathery concoction that made Merlin sit up straight. "Uncle Arthur said this is for your doll, but I don't think so."

Merlin grinned, "No, let's make sure the Arthur doll is always wearing this hat, eh?" He took it and the Arthur doll from her and put them together. "I think this suits him very well, don't you? The red cloak and the Red Hat of Doom. What do you think?"

Mim just giggled as she nodded as she pulled out another doll. "This was supposed to be for Uncle Arthur." She put the Arthur doll on the horse and pranced him over and around her father's legs. Merlin picked up the Gwaine doll and the two proceeded to have a mock swordfight, with Gwaine having an overly dramatic death scene, leaving Mim giggling madly before she remembered something and reached for the box again.

"Uncle Arthur said this was also for your doll. I like it. He even showed me how it worked. Watch." This time Merlin just groaned and thunked his head on the leg of the table as his daughter pulled out the world's smallest pillory and proceeded to stick her father in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mim is turning three in this one. I only have my nieces and nephews for comparison, but I've had some rather grown-up conversations with them around that age, so I hope my depiction of her age is close to accurate. If not, just consider her precocious.
> 
> As for Merlin's children, there are: Balinor (Bal), Freya, Miriam (Mim), and Lance. Arthur has: Elyan, Igraine, Thomas (Tom).


	30. Chapter Thirty

Set in the Second Season

Usually Merlin enjoyed fluffy little animals, but this was not the usual fluffy little animal. No, Merlin found himself facing off against an animal so profoundly evil and clever that he would have welcomed one of Arthur's ridiculous hunts. His foe had managed to elude him at every turn. Somehow, no matter what Merlin did, the rat that had decided Arthur's chambers were now his outsmarted the wizard. Merlin wasted an entire honey cake trying to reel in the devious little rodent and only managed to attract a trail of ants. When he used cheese, he instead found a family of rather adorable mice that he ended up relocating outside the castle walls.

Arthur gave Merlin an ultimatum. Catch the rat, or spend an hour in the stables each day until he had actually managed to get the little bastard. So far, Merlin spent five hours in the stables. Five hours he could have used doing other chores or just relaxing for once. The rat's days were numbered. Maybe.

Merlin held his next weapon. This idea was sure to be the one that solved his problem. Absolutely. Margie down at The Rising Sun assured him that her cat was the finest mouser in Camelot. All he had to do was leave the cat in Arthur's chambers for the day and his problem would be solved. He set the cat on Arthur's bed and the prince's third-best boots were left where they normally were next to it. Arthur was wearing his second-best boots because his best boots had become rat fodder last week. Grabbing the laundry basket, Merlin closed the door and left to do his other chores, praying to all the gods that this worked because he was just plain sick of the stink of the stables.

A while later, he finished all of the chores he needed to get done outside of Arthur's chambers and hoped Margie's cat had done its job. The brunet servant bowed and quietly got out of the way of the king and two of his councilmen as he returned with Arthur's laundry. He never wanted to draw Uther's attention. Whenever he did, it seemed to be for all the wrong reasons. He was pretty sure Uther regretted making Merlin Arthur's servant, but now that it was done, it was unlikely to be undone. Uther and his men seemed to be heading toward the king's chambers, further down the hall. Once they passed, Merlin shrugged at the dismissive glances they'd cast his way. He'd rather they ignored him.

At Arthur's door, Merlin shifted the basket to one side so he could enter. He opened the door far enough that he could go inside and realized he was hearing a commotion. Squeaks and yowls pierced the air. He looked down at the floor by Arthur's bed and grinned as he watched Margie's cat chase the rat around the post a few times. The grin vanished as the rat saw a possible avenue of escape and darted toward the open door on it's next lap of the bedpost. Merlin tried to close the door but the basket in his arms impeded him and he watched the rat, followed by the cat, run past the guards and down the hallway.

Of course, the rat couldn't choose to go down the way Merlin had come. Of course, he had to choose the way down the hall that would lead him straight to Uther's rooms around the corner. Merlin closed his eyes as he listened for it. He knew it was coming. And there it was. He wasn't sure which of the two noblemen had such a girlish scream, but he knew Uther's angry shout from a mile away. He'd heard it directed at him often enough. Merlin leaned into Arthur's room and calmly put down the basket of clean clothing just inside the door. He could take care of it later. The guard at the door cleared his throat. "Merlin?"

"I know, I know." Merlin sighed quietly before closing the door behind him and smiling wanly at the two guards. "I'll just go make sure the king is alright."

The guard who hadn't spoken shook his head. "Someday, Merlin, you'll make it an entire day without getting into trouble."

Merlin snorted. "I don't think I'd know what to do with a day like that, Red."

Squaring his shoulders, Merlin turned the corner and grimaced as one of the king's guards knelt down beside Lord Atta, testing his ankle as the man blanched in pain. "Boy, don't just stand there. Get Gaius." the king snapped at him the moment he saw him. "Then figure out who owns that flea-bitten beast and bring them to me."

"Actually, Sire, I know the cat. I borrowed it to catch the rat in Arthur's chambers." Merlin looked at the cat, which was now curled up in the alcove with the statue that had always looked as disapproving as the king. The cat was watching the activity in front of it with an almost smug look on its bewhiskered face, the tail of its prey sticking out from beneath its claws. Merlin tried to smile a little, "It seems to have worked."

The hour in the stocks was almost worth getting away from the murderous look on the king's face. The extra hour spent cleaning the stables, well, that would have been fine if it hadn't been for Margie's cat, sitting on one of the stall doors, watching him with that gleeful look on its face as its tail twitched and it delicately cleaned its paws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I really haven't put Merlin in the stocks for a little while.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

Set the winter between Seasons 3 and 4

"That's done. Finally." Tor sat back and wiped his brow. It had taken him over an hour to clean the floor of the Great Hall. As he gathered his bucket of water and the rags he had used, he sighed in pleasure. It was definitely not his favorite task. In fact, he really hated this one, but Sandy was ill and all of the other castle workers were busy with other tasks.

Tor was just about to leave by the servant entrance when the main doors were flung open and the Knights of the Round Table came waltzing in, laughing about something. Tor didn't catch what they were laughing about. He really didn't care. All he cared about was the fact that they were tracking gobs of mud over the floor that he had just cleaned. The one he had just spent over an hour cleaning. The one he hated cleaning in the first place.

Normally, Tor liked the knights. Sir Gwaine had stood him a round at the Leaky Bucket when his first child was born, happy to celebrate with all of the other servants at "their" tavern. He had grown up running around with Sirs Elyan and Leon. All of this faded from his memory as a haze of anger fell over him. "You can't be serious?! I just cleaned that floor! Have you been tracking that mud all through the castle?"

"Uh." Sir Percival was the source of the helpful answer. He looked at the others as they paused midstep. All of them looked down at their feet before they looked back up at Tor sheepishly.

"Sorry,Tor. We didn't realize. We just wanted to get through to the Armory faster." Sir Leon's face wasn't just tinged red from the wind, even though the mucky winter weather was miserable and making everyone just as miserable.

Sir Lancelot cringed as he backed up. "We'll just take the longer way, then. Sorry."

The other knights started backing up before they paused again upon hearing Tor snarl, "Oh, don't you dare take another step. You'll get the entire castle dirty. Stay there. Right there. Do not move a damned muscle."

He stomped past the speechless knights, leaving the bucket and rags by the door as he went to get something, anything, to wrap the knights' boots in so they didn't mess up the castle floor any worse. He didn't even realize he was muttering something about ungrateful, entitled asses as he passed them, he was so frustrated and furious. Tor could track the idiots just by following their trail of mud. It was going to take forever to clean the castle up, and with so many of the other servants sick, he knew just who the clean-up job would fall to.

Tor passed George as he stared morosely down at the floor. George and Merlin were the two other servants that had been picking up the slack with Tor the last week or so. "It was those damned knights, George. They tracked it all in."

George looked up and gave Tor a wan smile. "I figured. They always forget that their boots and spurs pick up so much dreck."

"I've stopped them in the Great Hall. The fools were going to track more mud over the floor I just washed just so they could take their favorite shortcut. I'm getting something to wrap their boots in. They can take cold feet for the few minutes it'll take to get to the armory."

"Try the third cupboard." George grimaced. "The cloths there were going to be torn for rags. I'm going to find Merlin." Tor just nodded as he continued on his way to the small storage room that held the cleaning supplies for the castle.

By the time Tor had gotten back to the Great Hall, he was calmer, and starting to get a bit worried, actually. Disrespecting a knight could get one thrown in the stocks, or even the dungeon. Tor had never been in either, and never wanted to experience either. He opened the door to the Great Hall almost hesitantly. Not believing what he was seeing, Tor stopped in his tracks. The five men were actually on their knees, cloaks and boots set aside, cleaning up the mud they'd tracked in. They weren't doing an especially good job, more just pushing it around, rather than cleaning it, but Tor was still absolutely boggled by the sight.

"Ah, Tor, you're back." Sir Leon gestured toward their boots. "We figured you were going to get us something like that. We tried to help clean up a bit."

Sir Percival looked up at the servant. "It seems Sir Leon has never washed a floor in his life. The rest of us have. We couldn't let Leon get away without experiencing such joy, right?"

Tor snorted, his disbelief waning as he caught the mischief in Percival's eyes. His and Sir Elyan's areas were the only two that were actually somewhat clean. He couldn't help it, he started smiling as he wrapped their boots in the rags he'd gathered. "Here. Go get out of that armor. I'll take care of the rest. George has already gone to get Merlin so we can clean the rest of the mud up."

Lancelot took his boots from Tor, "We really are sorry. We didn't mean to make more work for you."

"Just do two things for me, well, three. First, try to knock off as much of that shit as you can before you go tromping through the castle next time. Second, stand George and I pints later on since Merlin never drinks." Tor took a deep breath, "And thirdly, please don't put me in the stocks for disrespect. I'm sorry I lost my temper. I just hate cleaning floors with a passion and had just finished it when you walked in. I really didn't mean to disrespect you. Honestly."

Leon put his hand on Tor's shoulder after he collected his boots and stood there in his stocking feet. "It was our fault. Next time we go out, we'll be more careful." He paused. "Just be careful about your temper. We're fine, but some of the knights are still a little more tetchy about rank and nobility."

Tor nodded. It was strange how Sir Leon, a member of one of the oldest noble families in Camelot could be so casual about rank. He had changed since he'd fallen in with the common-born knights. Tor was grateful for that. If he'd mouthed off at one of the knights like Sir Baudwin or Lord Agravaine, he would have been dragged down to the stocks by his ear and stuck there for hours. "Yes, Sir. Thank you. And thank you for trying to clean up."

Leon just smiled as he and the others walked through the Great Hall on their shortcut to the armory. Tor sighed and knelt down as he started cleaning the floor again, starting with the area that Sir Leon had been working on. The First Knight may be an excellent commander and warrior, but he was terrible at cleaning floors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where Tor came from. I kinda like him.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

Set nearly a year after the Battle at Camlann

Havard hated calls to break up pub fights. By the time the guard got to the pub they were usually out of control and required the breaking of even more heads to stop them. He grasped the club he had been issued tightly as he stood ready to open the door, waiting for Nick's nod. They had done this as a team a few times now, working well together. With a shout, Nick ducked the stool that went soaring through the door when Havard opened it, yelling "Guard! Stand down!"

His shouts did nothing, of course. The fight was too involved. Havard followed the younger man into the pub, carefully tempering his swings as he coshed idiots on the head, taking them out of the fight. Havard missed the small man creeping up behind him, catching sight of him only as he dodged the pitcher that flew a foot or two past his head and hit the man square in the face, shattering as both hit the ground. Havard dismissed him and went to look for the person throwing crockery at him.

A head popped up from behind the bar, glanced around until their eyes fell upon Nick, tangling with two bruisers. Havard could swear the little person stared right at the man about to knock Nick in the head with his own club before the bench in front of him shifted all by itself, knocking the brute on his face when he tried to lunge at the guard. Havard's attention was stolen by the drunk farmer lurching towards him just then.

A few more minutes and a few more pieces of crockery managing to hit the right person to give the two guards the advantage in the fight saw the scuffle over and the drunken instigators sitting in a pile in the center of the pub. They were going to be working off their drunks in the stocks and the jail. Nick took two of them while Havard took the other two and they led them out the door. The pub owner stood by the door, arms crossed in front of himself while his young daughter hid half behind her father. Havard bid them both a good evening by nodding and marched his drunks past them.

They had done this often enough since Havard had arrived that they had the procedure down pat. If there were more than could be accommodated by the closest set of stocks, then Havard brought his prisoners to the jail to await their turns, while Nick installed his idiots in the stocks and pillory. When they met up afterward for dinner, Havard maintained his usual silence while he and Nick relaxed.

He finally allowed himself time to think and decide if he had really seen slight flashes of gold in the little girl's eyes before the plates and mugs had jumped off the bar to throw themselves onto the drunks fighting the guards. Not one of the pieces of crockery or the benches had targeted the guards themselves, instead, helping them each time.

"Alright, Havard, what's got you worked up? You haven't even rolled your eyes once during my story about Morris."

Havard paid attention to Nick finally, "I wasn't listening. Sorry. What did your idiot brother do now?"

Nick grinned, "I know you weren't listening. I want to know why."

Havard frowned at the guard who'd become his friend, something he hadn't expected when partnered with the extroverted man. He wasn't sure what he'd seen and didn't want to get a child in trouble, but what if he had actually seen her using magic?

"Come on, Havard. Even you're not usually this quiet."

Havard set down his knife and leaned over the table a bit, resting his arms on it, while he took a deep breath and took a quick glance around. There was no one else in the common room the guards used. "Nick, I wonder-" He shook his head and picked up the knife again, grasping it tightly, his lips pressed together.

"The barman's daughter." Nick took a sip from his watered-down ale, ignoring the shocked look on Havard's face. "Her name is Katie."

"You, you-"

"Finish a sentence, Havard." Havard could see the similarities between Nick and his brat of his brother when he caught the twinkle in the smug bastard's eyes.

"You're an ass, Nick." Nick just shrugged and grinned. "You saw what I saw, too."

"Katie has been moving things without touching them for the last year or so. She's seven years old." Nick set down his mug and crossed his own arms on the table, looking down at it, his grin smoothing into a serious look. "You weren't with us at Camlann. A sorcerer helped us. That's not just a camp story, Havard. I saw him myself on the heights. The Captain told me that the king is working on drafting some laws that will relax some of those against magic. You know, like not going after Druids and such."

"But-"

Nick interrupted the normally stoic man whose head was reeling from what he was hearing. "Look at it this way, Katie is a child. She chucks plates at the heads of the idiots tearing up her father's pub. What harm is she doing? If she somehow grows up to be a witch on the same level as the Lady Morgana, then we will deal with her, but you haven't met her grandmother." Nick shuddered. "I have. I've gotten on her bad side. The chances of Katie growing up to be evil are negligible. Mother Sarah would have her head. We wouldn't have to do a thing."

"Mother Sarah is her grandmother?" Havard had met the woman, actually, when he went down to the market with George to find a gift to bring to his mother the last time he went home to visit her. Mother Sarah sold fabric dyes that Havard knew his mother wouldn't be able to find anywhere near her village.

"Oh, you have met her?"

Havard smiled, "She reminds of one of the elders of my village. Granny Izzy keeps all of the children in line. She never had any of her own, but just has that way about her."

"Exactly." Nick nodded. "Mother Sarah knows about Katie's magic, so does the king, actually. Katie panicked and ran away. Her father went to Sir Gwaine, of all people, for help. Probably because he spends so much time in the pub. When we tracked her down, Merlin got her to tell him what was wrong. No one who saw her absolutely hysterical with fear about it could imagine her hurting anyone, so the king just told her father to keep it quiet until he could figure things out. That was a few months ago, right before you arrived, actually. Now we just try to keep an eye on her so she doesn't do something in front of people who don't know."

Havard sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "Everything I thought I knew gets turned on its head here in Camelot."

Nick shrugged. "You learn to just think on your feet, I guess."

"What do you think about magic, Nick?"

"I think-" Nick paused to roll his shoulders and lessen the tension he felt in them. "I think my ass was saved by some old wizard on the heights at Camlann. I think Katie is one of the sweetest little girls I've met in my life. I think there are Druids that have saved the lives of villagers and townsfolk who have sought them out at risk of their own lives. I think there are witches out there who make sure harvests are good for villages that may elsewise starve."

He took a deep breath. "I think there are people like Lady Morgana whose magic was so squashed and spirits so crushed that they turn bad. I think there are people out there who are just plain bad to begin with who have access to either magic or swords and hurt others just because they can and enjoy power. I think those people need to be stopped.

"But the people who simply want to live their lives with no harm to anyone else, should be protected." Nick nodded. "I don't want to hurt an innocent, and no one can tell me someone like Katie isn't an innocent."

Havard sat silently, thinking over what Nick said, before he responded. "Camelot gives me a headache sometimes."

"But you wouldn't change a thing, right?" Nick grinned at his friend.

Havard snorted lightly. "No. No, I don't think I would."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much stocks action, more guard-centric, I guess. Havard is the poor guard stuck watching over Jack and dealing with Morris in Chapter 17. I have vague ideas about where to go with him, but nothing concrete. Nick I have definite plans for, I just have to restart my NaNoWriMo project to get to them. Maybe soon.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this one mentions the off-camera rape of an OC child, and some bloody whipping. If you might be triggered by any of that, please don't read it. This is not a funny one at all.

Set about twelve years before Season 1, Arthur is eight.

Uther hated this part of ruling Camelot. He stood there watching as the Captain of the Guard drew the lash back and brought it back down on the man's back. Battle-hardened as he was, the anguished cries of the rapist still rang through his mind. The moment he found himself wanting to turn away, he looked at the family huddled to the side of the crowd, the young girl standing tall with her mother and grandmother's arms tightly wound around her in support as she watched the man who assaulted her be punished. Uther couldn't remember her name; she was one of the daughters of one of the farming families that worked right outside the walls, but he admired her strength as she squeezed her mother's hand tightly. Her father stood partly in front of the females, as if to protect them from the view of the bastard that had raped his young child.

Arthur stood next to him, young with a trembling chin, but needing to see that this type of punishment still had to be meted out for some crimes. Uther laid his hand on the boy's shoulder and nodded grimly when he looked up from the blood running down the rapist's back. Arthur's face was pale, unusual for the boy who practically lived outside on the training field. Uther could tell he was holding back the bile, just like he was.

The Captain of the Guard paused and wiped his brow. It was a hot day with the sun beating down upon the quiet square. The only sounds were the cries of the rapist and the Captain's grunts as he brought the whip down, over and over again. No one said a word otherwise. The bloody man held in the pillory whimpered from the pain. After a moment the Captain continued, lifting his arm again and again. Ten minutes later, the first part of the rapist's punishment was over. He was lucky. If they were still adhering to the old Roman laws, he would have been dead by now. As it was, he would remain in the pillory, untouched, for the next three hours, before Gaius would see to his wounds. The next morning, he would be shipped off to the mines in the north where he would spend the rest of his life chained while digging iron out of the ground.

Uther nodded toward the farmer before he led his own pale and shaking child away from the wall. When they reached Arthur's chambers, Uther sent for some wine for him and cider for Arthur. He had barely closed the door when his son bolted for the chamber pot and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. Wishing he could do the same, Uther was just happy the maids had emptied it out earlier. Arthur accepted the cloth wetted with water from the ewer beside his bed quietly and drank the water Uther had poured into the goblet next to it. His skin felt clammy when Uther reached out to touch it. "Sit, Arthur."

"Will I have to order that, father? I don't know if I can."

Uther sighed as he sat beside Arthur on the bed. "I wish I could say that you won't, but yes, you most likely will." He put his arm around his son, "There are certain crimes that we cannot forgive, but are still not worthy of an automatic death sentence. You will have to learn the wisdom to decipher when to use whippings."

Arthur shuddered. "I don't like whippings or putting people to death. Why can't we just use the stocks for everything?"

"My father explained it to me this way: it's better to be respected than feared. Being feared means that, yes, people will do what you command, but fear will also see them trying to remove that which they fear and you will always have to be on your guard around everyone. Being respected means that they will do what you command because they know you are looking at their best interests and they will support that and even help you. Using corporal punishment is where it becomes tricky. Too little punishment and the crime becomes a joke. Too much builds resentment and fear. Your grandfather preferred the stocks because a little public humiliation wasn't permanently injurious. A person would learn from it. Usually. Also, it meant that when punishments such as whippings and executions were used sparingly, their effectiveness didn't wane. If we executed people for nothing serious, then no crime would mean much because people would have nothing to truly lose."

Arthur leaned into his father's side, the nausea finally starting to subside a bit. "I understand only using bad punishments for bad crimes. I really do, father. I just don't like this one. Well, I really don't like any punishments. I wish the people would just not commit any crimes."

Uther snorted a bit. "As do I, son. As do I."

"Will she be okay?" Arthur asked after another minute of being held by his father.

"Who?"

"The girl, Madalena. Suder's daughter."

Uther looked down at his son, playing with his fingers as he leaned into his father. Sometimes Arthur showed just how much of his mother's son he was. Ygraine would have remembered the girl's name, where Uther couldn't. "She has her family supporting her."

"He hurt her really badly, though. I saw the bruises on her face when she was in the throne room."

"Gaius is looking after her. She'll be fine."

Arthur put his thin arms around his father's waist and held onto him, looking every inch the vulnerable eight year old he was. "I hope so. I'm glad she has someone to help her. Just like I have you to help me, father."

Uther didn't reply to his son, just held him tighter. This little boy, this small part of his wife, was his world and he would do whatever it took to protect him, but also make sure he was ready for the day Uther could no longer protect him, even if it meant making him watch a whipping at his young age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not sure if this is another "Uther isn't so bad" story or not. Making an eight year old watch a public whipping isn't exactly going to win him father of the year, but when molding a future king, I guess there are other concerns.
> 
> And, yes, when I was pulling names out of nowhere for characters, I channeled my inner Trekkie for the farmer. :) Suder is one of my favorite characters from Voyager, played by the amazing Brad Dourif. I almost went with Hendorff but decided I want to reserve that for later use. Hehehe.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

Set in the winter between seasons 1 and 2

One of the first things Merlin saw when he came to Camelot was an execution. That tended to stick with a fellow, so when he got stuck in the pillory that very same day for standing up to an insufferable royal prat, he breathed a small sigh of relief that it was his only punishment, although he could still do without the crap being thrown at him. Over the last year, he'd been put in the pillory too many times, only half of them being the fault of that same insufferable royal prat who was slowly growing on him. Merlin figured that was the way with prophecies. Surely one had to like the other half of them if they were eventually supposed to work together to do something. Right? Hopefully? Or at least not want to actively murder them each time they got one into a mess. Merlin was still working on that last bit.

Right now, he was working on controlling his shivers. It was winter in Camelot and Uther had decided to change things up. Today Merlin was sitting in the stocks, not standing in the pillory. It gave him the opportunity to tuck his hands under his arms to try to stay warm at least. Of course, the downside was that the cold was being leached from him as he sat on the freezing wooden bench on the freezing winter wind that was was whipping its way through the alley formed by the buildings on the side of the market square. He was hunched, miserable, as he resisted using the heating spell he'd read in Gaius' old spellbook. Though not a soul was stupid enough to be out here, not even the guard who'd taken refuge in the warm tavern, he knew he'd get caught.

"Here. You look like you need this." Merlin opened his eyes to see Gwen standing next to him, wrapped in two of her warmest shawls, holding a mug of hot something. He didn't care if it was wastewater, it had steam rising from the surface.

"You are the most amazing friend ever, Gwen." His hands almost didn't want to open from the fists he'd made. He forced them to so he could hold the hot mug. It burned his hands, the heat painful after being clenched so long in the cold, but he really didn't care.

Gwen sat on the edge of the platform while he sipped the ambrosia in the guise of plain, hot apple cider. "Will you be alright, Merlin? It's too cold to have anyone in the stocks today."

He snorted, "And that's why it's a punishment, Gwen."

She gave him a pained little smile as she took off, and wrapped the top shawl around him. He didn't even mind the delicately embroidered flowers now adorning his back. It still held some of her body heat. "I just feel bad. It's all my fault."

"Nah."

"But-"

Merlin shook his head. "Nope. It was just bad timing on our part, that Uther would visit right as Arthur was yelling at me. It was bound to happen at some point, especially since we've been doing our laundry together lately. Trust me, I would have managed to turn all of Arthur's drawers pink eventually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was surprisingly hard to write. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but at least it's a little fluffier than the last. I started two other Stocks stories before this one which have both spun out of control. If I can wrangle them back to any semblance of order, they'll probably go up as one-shots. I actually had to use a word prompt for this one. The words I used were wind, accept, and soothe. Only wind shows up, but the others are implied.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Set at some point after Arthur is crowned

"Create a diversion, he says. So we can rescue the girl, he says. So, of course, he's in there drinking and having a fine time while I'm stuck here. Stupid prat."

"Merlin, are you insulting your king?" Merlin jerked and scraped the back of his neck on the wooden pillory he was currently occupying when Leon approached from the side. For a man dressed in armor, he could be awfully quiet when he wanted to be.

"Absolutely. Look at me, Leon. He's in there drinking while I'm in the stocks." Merlin glared. "I followed orders and made a distraction so he could rescue the girl."

Leon smiled sheepishly, "But you ended up setting fire to a house in a kingdom not our own."

"No, that was the idiot bandit. He's the one who set it ablaze."

"And who set the bandit ablaze?"

Merlin decided he was just done speaking to knights of Camelot right now. They were too damned annoying. "Leon, unless you're getting me out of here, go away."

"Well, luckily for you, I am getting you out of here." Leon lifted the heavy wood up so Merlin could ease out and straighten up. "Now, I suggest we get to the horses so we can leave."

Merlin paused while he rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to ease the soreness. "Leon, did you just release me without permission?"

Leon grinned, his eyes alight with mischief. If one didn't know Leon well, one wouldn't realize how often that look gleamed in his eyes, he usually hid it so successfully. "Absolutely not. I had permission. Just not from the headman. Who is apparently very hard to convince of anything, even over a couple tankards of ale."

"We're making a run for it, aren't we?"

"Yep. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I think Gwaine's a bad influence on our Leon.
> 
> So, you readers can make whatever assumption you want as to how Merlin set his distraction. It can be after Camlann and the reveal, or it can be before and Merlin's amazing luck just holds true. I've not even decided for myself.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Set in Season 5**

* * *

"Merlin, I swear you are going to be in the stocks for an entire day."

"I don't know why you're blaming me for this. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, who else can I blame, cabbagehead?"

"Oh, let me think. Yourself? I told you something was wrong up ahead, but you wouldn't listen to me."

Elyan tested his bonds even as he smirked. The bandits had them tied up tightly. He turned his head as he heard a snort and the whisper coming from beside him.

"We're captured and the head bandit is monologuing about ransoming us all back to Gwen and there they are bickering." Gwaine shook his head fondly at the two idiots the knights followed.

"Sometimes I wonder if Arthur married the wrong person." Elyan whispered it back to his friend.

Leon shrugged as much as he could with his hands tied behind his back. "They sound like my father and uncle used to, actually. Mother and Aunt Jessamyn would just laugh at them."

Percival didn't bother opening his eyes from his sitting position against a tree. "Give them a few more minutes to get it out of their systems, then Leon can goad the king into action."

"Why me?"

"Because he likes you best, Sir Leon the Perfect First Knight." Gwaine grinned wickedly at the oldest of them. "If I did it, then the Princess would just unleash his ire on me and we still wouldn't get anywhere."

Leon deflated. Percival and Gwaine were right. Gwaine tended to rub the king the wrong way even as he amused him. The four men sat back and listened to their king and his manservant ignore everyone else and bicker quietly for another few minutes.

"-the stables. What other manservant has to clean the stables? That's what you have stableboys for, dollophead."

"Oh, please. You should be happy I trust you around my horses."

"Of course. And all those speeches I write for you."

Leon guessed it had gone on long enough since the topics of stocks, dungeons, and Merlin's supposed idiocy had ended and they'd moved on to Merlin's more random responsibilities. He cleared his throat.

"You should be happy I think you're smart enough to write my speeches. Of course, I always have to heavily edit them-"

"You prat. I have to listen to those same speeches and you don't change anything."

"Well-"

Leon gave up on subtle and whispered as loudly as he could, "Sire!"

Arthur ignored him and kept talking over Merlin, who kept trying to talk over the king. Leon grimaced at Elyan, who just shrugged and grinned wickedly, tilting his head at the duo as if to say good luck with them and get on with it. Sometimes Leon wondered what he'd done so badly in a former life because his life in Camelot was certainly not a peaceful, soothing one. He looked down at the dirt under his boots and decided he just didn't care. It was time for the two infants across from him to stop acting like the children they really were and pretend to be adults. He kicked his foot and a light layer of dirt and rock covered the king's leg.

"What? Leon?" Arthur looked over at the knight across from him. "Did you just kick dirt on me?"

Merlin's snickers joined Gwaine's and Leon narrowed his eyes at the manservant. "Yes, I did, Sire." His foot kicked out again and dirt hit Merlin's pants, killing the young man's laughter. "You're both acting like children and we need a plan to get out of here. So help us figure something out or so help me, when we get back to Camelot  _I_  will put  _both_  of you in the stocks, king, servant, whatever."

Arthur's face turned a funny shade of red and he and Merlin both glared at Leon for a few moments before they looked at each other and seemed to have one of those mental conversations they excelled at. They both sighed at the same time and nodded. "You've been taking lessons from Guinevere, haven't you, Leon?"

Leon snorted. "Her mother was my mother's maid. We both learned from the two best, Sire."

"Right. Well, then, gentlemen and Gwaine. Let's get out of here and go home."

* * *

That evening when the small band camped for the night on their way home to Camelot, Leon sat by the tiny fire quietly. Somehow Merlin had coaxed it out of wetter wood than Leon would have thought possible. The bandits were dead, so they weren't too concerned about being found by more of them. Arthur sat next to him, neither speaking as they stared into the flames. Behind them, Gwaine snored, Elyan and Percival spoke quietly about something while they kept watch, and Merlin hummed to himself as he mended something.

"You know I value your counsel and advice, Leon." Arthur's voice was soft, not carrying past them.

Leon nodded, "I do, Sire, and I'm flattered when I think on that."

"I know I'm a young king. I won't fool myself into thinking I know everything. I need good people around me." Arthur glanced back at the others. "My Council is still full of father's people, as is the Round Table, but you and the others here, and some of the others at court, I trust to tell me what I need to know."

"I would say that knowing when to seek advice is the hallmark of a wise person, Sire. My parents taught me that."

"I don't want to disappoint anyone, Leon." Arthur's face had a fey look on it. "I want the people in my kingdom to be happy and healthy."

"Arthur," Leon put his hand on the king's arm, "the only people that I know of with complaints about how you're running the kingdom are the old farts that are left over from your father's time." Arthur snorted. "The rest of us are fine.  We know you aren't your father and are still finding your path as king."

"And acting like a child, apparently."

Leon grinned. "Only with Merlin, Gwen, and the rest of us. We've come to expect you and Merlin acting like two brothers; bickering or sniping at each other until the moment you have to defend each other from someone else. If you didn't act like that, we'd wonder what was wrong with you." He shrugged. "Truth to tell, it's usually amusing. He helps keep your ego in check."

Arthur turned to look at Leon with a smirk. "Are you saying I have an ego, First Knight?"

"One the size of Camelot itself, Your Majesty." Leon smirked right back.

Arthur's smirk turned into a rueful grin, "Fair point. Guinevere punctures it regularly enough." Arthur turned back toward Merlin, who was in his own little world as he sewed. "How the hell did I manage to find more than one of you people to do that? Guinevere, Merlin, Gaius?" He shook his head, "Gwaine? You?"

"I guess you were just lucky." Leon threw another small branch on the fire. "I'll be honest, being a few years older than you, I know we had little to do with each other outside training as you were growing up, but I couldn't stand your friends. Those hangers-on were just nasty idiots. I like your friends much better now, Sire."

"I consider you one of them, Leon."

Leon felt his face flush and knew it wasn't just the fire. "Thank you, Sire. I'm honored, and I feel the same."

Neither spoke after that, letting the warmth of the fire and camaraderie wash over them until they were finally drowsy enough to seek their bedrolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is actually in the stocks in this one.  Oops.  I'm still dying to figure out a way to get Arthur in them one of these days. No luck so far.  I think this may be the closest I get.  
> 
> Hmm.  Two Leon stories in a row.  I'll need to pick on someone else for Friday's story, because I think Leon is just done with these boys and needs a vacation.  Although, this was supposed to be an Elyan story and Leon just swanned in and took over.  


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Set in Season 5 - and so ridiculous that you may all hate me**

* * *

"Are you sure this is the place?"

"Merlin, Merlin. Have I ever steered you wrong?" Gwaine smirked as he pushed open the door to what looked like an unassuming village tavern. "Yes, you can answer that both alphabetically and chronologically."

Merlin just sighed and shook his head ruefully as he followed his friend into Goodwife Margaret's. It was dimmer than he expected, and the patrons glared up from their tables at whomever had dared to bring light into their little hellhole. Gwaine let the door close behind them as he stepped toward the bar. "Weasel. My friend."

"Gwaine. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Found a steady job down in Camelot."

The bartender's eyebrows rose upon his forehead. "You? A steady job? Doing what? Testing ale?"

Gwaine rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. He'd shed all outward evidence of his knighthood for this particular task. Merlin was actually staying quiet while he kept his eyes open and trying to be subtle as he watched the men and women in the room. "A bit of guarding. Using my second best skill, I guess."

Weasel looked wholely unimpressed by Gwaine's normally winning smile. He looked over at Merlin and disdainfully looked him up and down. "Guarding the stick, there?"

"Nah, my friend does well enough on his own." Gwaine leaned forward on the bar, pulling out the tiny purse he'd prepared before they left the others with the horses. "Anyway, we're looking for your favorite asshole. Any idea where to find him?"

Weasel's brow rose even higher. If he wasn't careful, he might just beat Gaius for eyebrow height. He slid his hand over the bar and opened the purse after he picked it up. After counting the coins that slid out of it, he grunted and nodded. "Town square. He's stuck in the pillory until sundown."

"Ouch." Gwaine winced. "What'd he do?"

"Appropriate way to put it. Let's just say Farmer Al decided he was no longer welcome as his back-up shepherd and leave it at that."

Gwaine winced as Merlin looked a bit confused. "What-"

"Never mind, Merlin. We'll just wait for him here, Weasel. Two ales." Gwaine paid for the ales and led the younger man to the table by the wall. They only had a bit to wait. Might as well spend it in good company.

They had only been there for about an hour when the door opened and another man hobbled in. "Weasel! I need a drink."

"You have no job and no money."

"Oh, come on, you know I'm good for it. I just spent hours in that stupid pillory and I'm parched." He threw his arms out wide and dramatically turned around, the hood pulled over his head billowing a bit and nearly falling down. "Any of these wonderful people will stand me a drink." The man's arms fell slowly as not one of the patrons answered with more than a baleful stare. "One of you? Max? Tobias? Virgil? Gwaine?" His shoulders drooped as started to make his way out of the tavern. He almost made it to the door before he stopped suddenly and turned toward their table. "Gwaine?!" The man dashed to their table and pulled Gwaine out of the seat. "Gwaine! Gwaine! My favorite person in the world." He hugged him tight as Gwaine laughed.

"Touch my bum and I'll chop off your favorite appendage, Wade."

The man Gwaine and Merlin had come in search of stepped back, holding Gwaine at arms' length, tsking at Gwaine. "No fun. Just no fun. But, hello there, cheekbones." Wade leaned to the side and toward Merlin.

Gwaine stopped him when he would have stepped around Gwaine to get to Merlin. "Same goes for Merlin. Weasel, get him one drink. Just one." He pushed Wade onto the bench across from him and Merlin. "We have business."

"Business?" Wade put his chin on his hand and looked at Merlin. "I much prefer pleasure." The hood had slipped back and Merlin could see the scar disfiguring the man's face. One side was still quite handsome, while the other looked as if it had been scraped across rocks and never allowed to heal. Even with the scar, the man's eyes twinkled with pure mischief.

"Yeah, that's why you were in the pillory."

He grinned at Gwaine, "Well, yes, but it's much more fun when there are only two legs to worry about."

"Sorry, mate, Merlin is off-limits."

The hazel eyes of their quarry flashed up and down what he could see of Merlin. "Pity." He picked up the ale Weasel had just plunked on the table and sighed dramatically. He seemed to do everything dramatically. "So business it is, since pleasure is off the table." When Merlin squeaked and jumped at the stockinged foot that had come to rest on his crotch, he just grinned around the rim of the tankard as he put his foot back on the floor.

"Wade. Pay attention." Gwaine shook his head. "You really are an ass. Leave the boy alone. He's too pure for you."

Wade just shrugged, still drinking the ale in gulps. When he was done, he wiped his mouth and held it out toward Gwaine, "Another?"

"No, but now that you're done, you can come with us and we can talk over our business away from big ears." Gwaine stood up abruptly, leaving Merlin to scramble behind him. "You can either follow us, or be left without any money for drink, Wade. Your choice."

Merlin quietly followed Gwaine, head reeling from what had happened in the last five minutes. "Gwaine, was he-?"

"Serious about propositioning either one of us?"

"Yeah."

"Absolutely." Gwaine laughed. "He doesn't care who or what a person, or animal, I guess, is." Gwaine clapped Merlin on the shoulder, "But he's a good man under all that bullshit. He's what we need."

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. You are now a knight of fucking Camelot and the three of you knights need my help to get back one of your idiot noblemen." Wade leaned back against the gnarled tree on the edge of the knights' camp. "Four, if you count the king's personal manservant, who, adorable as you are, Merlin, really has no reason being here."

Gwaine nodded. "Pretty much. You in?"

"Horrible odds. Francis' guards are vicious."

"And they gave you your scars. I figured you'd like a little payback." Gwaine held out his hand to Percival for the pouch of money Arthur had approved as payment for their guide. "And this is yours if you help us get in and get Lord March. What you do after we get out with him is all up to you."

Wade's eyes lit up. "No limits?"

"Only whatever won't hurt innocents." Merlin interjected before Gwaine could answer.

Wade waved his hand in Merlin's direction, scoffing, "Hurting innocent people is no fun. Now, dismembering Francis' guards..." The scarred man's attention seemed to turn inward. "I could use my smallest knife on Francis himself. Take off skin in... Oh, yes, that could work. That would be fun."

Merlin felt his stomach start to churn and he looked at Gwaine, who was just standing patiently, looking at Wade with actual amusement in his eyes. Gwaine caught the look Merlin threw at him and smiled the tiniest, most cynical smile he had ever seen on the man. "Wade. Your answer?"

Wade looked up from the hand he had started tracing his finger over, probably planning the path he would take while skinning Lord Francis, and smiled. If it hadn't been paired with eyes that just screamed 'madman', Merlin would have called it the sweetest, most joy-filled smile he'd ever seen. As it was, it ended up being more than slightly frightening. "Oh, I'm in. I get you and your knights and pretty servant in. You rescue your useless noble. You get out. I get to play. Francis dies."

Gwaine nodded. "Sounds good."

* * *

Elyan looked at Gwaine over the fire they had lit in the camp. "You realize your friend is completely mad, right?"

"Of course, I do. But he's the best chance we have to get into and out of Francis' alive and with Lord March intact." Gwaine shrugged. "Wade is a better swordsman than anyone I've ever met, and that includes both me and Arthur. He also has a debt to settle with Francis."

"Will he be able to do it? Get us in and out?" Percival had been quiet during the conversation and planning session that had occurred before Wade went to collect his weapons from Farmer Al's cottage.

Gwaine nodded. "Yeah. He can. He and I have worked together before."

"You sound like you admire him." Merlin took a deep breath. "I'm not going to lie. He makes me nervous."

"You'd be foolish not to be nervous around him, especially since he seems to think you're just edible." Gwaine ducked the twig thrown at his head. "Honestly. Wade may be mad, but he's good. He's a friend and he helps his friends. Well, most of them. Some of them he just loves to goad, but Logan usually deserves it because he's a moody bastard."

"How the hell did you make friends with him, Gwaine?" Elyan seemed just plain perplexed by the whole thing.

"He saved my life, then offered me a job with the useless nobleman he was guarding." Gwaine took a drink from the wineskin the four men were passing around the campfire. "It wasn't too long after I left home. He helped me get on my feet. Taught me a lot of my swordplay. Gave me some money when I decided it was time to move on."

Percival nodded. He understood the loyalty one could feel to the person who helped them pick up the pieces after their world went to hell. Master Jacobsen had been his Wade. Being given purpose after losing his family had been vital. If Master Jacobsen rode into Camelot today and asked for his help, he would give it with no questions asked.

Each of the men around the fire understood Gwaine's faith in his friend, even in the face of his madness. They each had that person. Merlin still mourned Will's loss. Every day, a little piece of his heart struggled to beat with the knowledge that he'd died saving him. Elyan would protect his sister with his life. She had faith in him, even when he'd left their family behind, she'd forgiven him (eventually) and welcomed him home.

The three men would put their faith in Gwaine's friend because they knew they could put their faith in Gwaine, and in two days they would rescue the not-so-fair unfortunately-not-a-damsel in distress and get him back to Camelot where King Arthur, Sir Leon, and the rest of the Council would ring a peal over the man's head for his reckless actions which had the possibility of leading to a war if Gwaine hadn't come up with a clandestine plan to get him back.

Merlin handed the wineskin back to Gwaine and shrugged, "Just do me a favor and make him stop staring at my ass."

* * *

The plan went almost perfectly. Wade knew all of the secret ways to enter Lord Francis' citadel. He even knew a few that Lord Francis didn't. When Merlin asked him how and why he knew this, the man simply shrugged and blithely answered, "I needed to know how to get in there to kill him some day. Tomorrow's that day."

The five men took a passageway that started in a cave about a mile away from the citadel and traveled to the castle's underwater reserve. The opening that they crawled out of barely existed. They actually had to pull Percival out of it by the arms when he got stuck in the hole. It was in a recess behind a few large rocks, so it was easily overlooked. Once Percival was through, looking much worse for the wear, Elyan kept watch in case a guard heard them digging around the edges to make the hole bigger so they could get out faster than they came in. They made their way to the door leading to the castle proper, and conveniently enough, the dungeons themselves.

Lord March was in the first cell, not the one closest to them, so they were going to have to take on the two guards to get to him. As Gwaine and Wade did just that, Merlin and the other two dashed to the cell. "Damn it. Gwaine, we need the keys!"

"Got it." He dispatched his opponent and was about to grab the keys from the guard's belt when he heard rumbling on the stairs. Quickly, he tugged the keys off and tossed them toward Merlin before he turned back to the fresh guards coming toward them. "Get March out of here. We'll meet you."

Merlin shoved Lord March in front of him without any regard for his rank and ordered Percival and Elyan to get him down the tunnel. They nodded and bustled the bruised and slightly dazed man off. "Come on, you two. We have to go."

Wade laughed. "You two go. This is-"

"Wade, if you say fun, I'm going to hurt you myself," Merlin interrupted the man.

"Promises, promises, Merlin." The waggling of only one eyebrow on the scarred face should have been ridiculous, but it was strangely not. "I said, you two go. I'm going to find Francis. Oh, Francis. Where are you?"

Gwaine broke the hand of the guard he was fighting and quickly finished him off. "You sure, Wade?"

Wade looked at the last two guards on the steps. They looked nervous. He turned and grinned at Gwaine. "Absolutely. I'm going to enjoy this." He turned his grin on Merlin and tossed his sword to Gwaine who caught it before Wade darted back toward the manservant. "Gotta do it. Just gotta."

Wade grabbed Merlin and pulled him to him quickly, capturing his lips as one of his hands reached down to squeeze the squeaking man's buttcheek. The kiss was over nearly as soon as it started and Wade was rushing back to grab his sword from Gwaine as he passed on his way to charge the two confused guards. Gwaine was laughing as he pulled a thoroughly dazed Merlin along the passageway back to the hole in the cave wall.

"What the hell happened back there?" Merlin had found his voice again after they got through the hole.

"Wade being Wade. Come on, we have to catch up with the others."

"But he's alone in there. We can't just leave him." Merlin stopped in the tunnel. Leaving a man, even if he was a strange madman like Wade, alone in a castle full of guards, went against his sense of right.

Gwaine paused, "Merlin, Wade will be fine. I promise you. If he can't get to Lord Francis today, he will get out and get him another day. Right now, he's giving us what we need to get Lord March out of here, which is what we came for. Going after Francis is what he went there for, regardless of the outcome. Merlin, if I thought he had no chance, I never would have left him alone. He'll be back at Goodwife Margaret's tormenting Weasel by tomorrow. Trust me."

Merlin nodded slowly. He didn't like leaving anyone behind, especially not someone who had proven to be a friend, very very odd and completely disrespectful of personal boundaries, but still, a friend; one who was rather amusing when he wasn't talking about dismemberment and filleting people as if they were fish. "Alright. But I don't like this."

"I know." Gwaine clapped his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Wade is a survivor. He has gotten through more and worse than I can even imagine somehow."

* * *

That night, camp was pretty quiet. The knights and Merlin had left Lord Francis' territory as quickly as possible, only making camp when they were sure they were far enough away that they weren't followed. It was a cold camp, with no fire to give away their position. Gwaine stood guard while the others pretended to sleep. The only one actually sleeping was Lord March.

Elyan was the one to break the silence from the tree he was leaning against for a bed. "Did we have to leave him there?" he whispered just loud enough for the others to hear.

Gwaine turned his eyes toward the camp, and they glittered a bit in the moonlight. "He's been after Lord Francis for years. Longer than I've known him, actually."

"Will he make it? Will he kill Lord Francis and escape?" Percival didn't open his eyes but his mouth tightened in the faint light.

"Yes. He'll do it." Merlin's voice was as low as the others, but he'd had hours to think about this. Not just that, but he'd also looked backwards and used his magic to see how Wade was doing. After a few minutes of watching Wade happily engaged in his task of dispatching the man who'd tortured him so many years ago, he'd looked forward and blocked the sight out of his mind, actually happy that dinner that night was reduced to jerky and flatbread. "He'll be fine."

Gwaine turned to stare at Merlin for a moment, wondering at the finality in his voice, before he nodded and turned his eyes back to the forest and trail. Elyan and Percival accepted Merlin's words and tried to put it from their minds so they could get a bit of sleep that night before they woke and headed back to Camelot.

* * *

_"Oh, Emrys. Just have to say, you taste delicious. Until we meet again, smooch smooch."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, yeah, I just did a Deadpool/Merlin crossover. Why? I don't know. It hit last night and I just went with it. Also, my Deadpool knowledge is limited to the movie, the very few of the comics I've read, conversations with my more comics-savvy friends, and some of the wikis I've read. I hope he's not too OOC.
> 
> Oh, and with this, we're all caught up to FFN. Yay! I've even figured out formatting better here on AO3. Now I just have to figure out tagging.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Set in Season Two**

"You will stand in the pillory for two hours a day for the next week. When not in the pillory, you will be in the dungeon. Consider yourself fortunate I haven't chosen to send you off to the mines."

The young man meekly knelt before the king, his head bowed, shoulders shaking from tears he attempted to suppress. His family stood off to the side, his mother's spine so rigid that a stiff wind might break her in two rather than see her bend.

"Have you anything to say before the guards take you out to the square?" Uther's tone spoke where he couldn't. The king didn't want to hear anything he might say. He shook his head quickly, reaching up to dash a tear from his cheek. Uther nodded at the guards, who led the young man out of the throne room.

* * *

Standing in the pillory wasn't the hard part of his punishment. The hard part was the time to think. The time to realize just what his actions had wrought. The flame had been so pretty. It was beautiful. He had just wanted to play with it. Thoughts of what might happen hadn't even entered his head. He'd always loved fire. It was warm and bright and intoxicating.

But the flames were naughty, and shouldn't have done what they did. They shouldn't have jumped from the designs they were drawing in the wood on the table to the wall. They shouldn't have caught Mama's shawl on fire. They shouldn't have spread to the wall at all. But when they did, they should have stopped. They might have stopped if he hadn't just watched them, and had grabbed the water bucket and thrown it on the wall.

If he had done that then they might not have spread to the next building or the next or the next. If he had done that then Papa and Master Gillan might not be in Gaius's chambers healing from burns and smoke inhalation. If he had just not lit the fire in the first place.

When he returned to the dungeon, his gaze was caught by the torch on the wall. He wanted to hate it. He wanted to look at the fire and think of nothing but his Papa and Master Gillan and four houses and two businesses reduced to smoking ruins.

The flame was warm and bright and intoxicating, and he couldn't take his eyes off it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of more of a dungeon story? Poor dude with pyromania story? *shrug* You guys pick.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Set about ten years into the Purge.**

In his mind, the man stepping ever-so-casually around the guard, nodding just so to avoid any suspicion, wasn't committing any crimes. To be fair, the king hadn't quite come out and forbidden what Foley wanted to do. No, he had forbidden witchcraft. Astrology wasn't witchcraft. It wasn't magic or any of that nonsense. It was a serious study of the stars and their effect on the behavior of humans. Let people like those uncultured Druids fiddle with potions, chants, and charms. Foley would take the view of the heavens above and translate them into the reasons humans did what they did.

Foley sat down on the platform in the middle of the square, the frame of the pillory providing the perfect resting spot. He had his scroll and charcoal pencil out and ready for when the stars he was looking for came out. The precious tome that held the drawings of the night sky was set next to him. Fifteen years ago he had considered the two years of indentured servitude in exchange for the volume to be a fair deal when he made it and still considered it thus.

"Foley." Gaius approached from the east entrance to the market square and sat down next to him, putting his basket of medicines and herbs on the ground at his feet. "It's a lovely evening for stargazing."

Foley smiled at the older man. Gaius didn't approve of astrology. He made no secret of that. "It is, indeed, Gaius." Foley moved over a bit to give him more room on the platform. "I'm hoping to see a comet tonight." He scratched his nose. "Well, sometime soon, anyway."

Gaius leaned back against the other upright and looked down at the open pages of Foley's book. "Are you so sure of that? I thought they were unpredictable." Foley was a nice enough man, and made a fine merchant, but it was his hobby of astrology that drove Gaius crazy. Did he really feel that the stars made a man act a certain way? That they could control the way a person believed? If that was the case, then what changed in the way the stars moved that made Uther so dead-set against magic? Nothing. It was the actions of Uther himself that had changed things.

Gaius tried to put these thoughts away as he listened to the man rattle on about a theory he had about a comet that kept coming back to visit the Earth. Foley pointed to a drawing in the book and a chart that was written underneath it. "I've been studying this one. It seems to appear every seventy-five years or so."

"Interesting." Gaius read the page. "So, if you're correct, it should appear at some point this year." He grinned when Foley nodded. "That sounds almost like a scientific observation, Foley, not an astrological one."

"You're not as funny as you think you are, Gaius." Foley frowned at the physician. "You practiced magic before the Purge. Tell me that was scientific."

"Of course it wasn't completely scientific. It was magic, but it still followed certain rules." Gaius settled back for the old debate between the two of them. "Your astrology tells me that I can only act a certain way because a star made me do it."

"Not so. Not at all. It can tell you what might be influencing you to act a certain way, but it can't make you act that way. It is your own personality and specific choices that do that." Foley yawned. "You could choose to do something contrary to your sign, and contrary to what the stars are telling you is your best course of action. Then you just have to take the consequences of those actions."

Gaius snorted. "We'll never agree that the stars are telling me the best way to live my life, will we?"

Foley grinned and shook his head, "Just like we'll never agree that your old higgledy-piggledy actually made sense."

"In that case, I guess we should just relax and watch the lovely night sky. Maybe we'll see your comet tonight, Foley."

"Yes. Let's just keep looking up."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really fiddled with science history and Astrology here. Comets weren't recognized as individual entities that visited our planet until Tycho Brahe (an astrologer and astronomer) had a go at them in the late 1500s. The Aristotelian view of them, which is what would have been the common view before Brahe, was that they were disturbances of the upper atmosphere, and were generally considered bad omens.
> 
> I grew up watching Jack Horkheimer's Star Hustler, then Star Gazer. Foley was his given name, and "Keep looking up." was his catchphrase. I have fond memories of that show.


	40. Chapter Forty

**Set in Season Two, when Morgana wasn't bonkers yet.**

* * *

It was snowing again. Normally by April, the weather had turned better; buds were erupting and the snowdrops were blooming. This year seemed to want to mess with everyone's minds. February had been warm, then March turned cold, with April not being able to decide just what it wanted to do. For the last month the residents of Camelot had been treated to snow the exact same day each week with the temperature rising then falling between them. Merlin sighed as he looked down at the square below. Gwen joined him at the window Merlin had been washing. "Who's down there this time?"

Merlin shifted to make room for his friend. "No one. I'm just actually sick of snow."

The swirls of white tried their hardest to get inside the room, buffeting against the window, before giving up and dropping to the ground below them. In the last fifteen minutes, a decent covering had begun to pile up on the ground. The merchants in the square were hunched over in their stalls, buried under as many layers of clothing as they could afford. Today wouldn't be a good market day. It was too cold for anyone to linger over the goods. The only stalls doing well were those that sold warm drinks. The chill outside the window started sapping the heat from Gwen and she shivered. Merlin reached over and tugged her under his arm, sharing his warmth as they stood there and watched the snow.

"Should I be annoyed that you two would rather watch the snow than doing the spring cleaning of my quarters that you had intended to do?" The servants looked over at the amused tones in Morgana's voice behind them. The lunch with Arthur, the king, and the Council must be over. They grinned as she dropped the shawl she'd been wearing in the chilly halls of the castle on her bed on her way over to the window. "Is it pretty out there?"

"It would be prettier if the snow was happening a month ago." The corner of Merlin's mouth tilted. "You might want to keep the shawl if you're going to stand here."

Morgana shrugged. "I'll just make you keep me warm, too. Consider it an order."

Gwen snorted as Merlin lifted his other arm, waiting for Morgana. The three friends stood at the window for a few minutes silently watching the snow before Gwen sighed. "I guess we should get back to work."

Merlin nodded and was dropping his arms from the two women when they heard some shouting from below. The three moved forward and looked down into the square below. They watched as two guards chased a small form down the street for a minute before it was caught when it slipped on a hidden patch of ice and fell. The guards were right behind it, one even slipping on the same patch. The other guard reached down and grabbed the person by the arm and spoke quietly to the other guard picking himself up off the ground. The other guard responded with a nod as he wiped the snow off his lower body. The little person, it must have been a child, in the hands of the other guard struggled the entire time, but was caught fast in the guard's grasp.

"Is that Jamie? Holding the kid?"

Merlin nodded at Gwen's question. "I think so. Wonder what the kid did?"

They watched as Jamie held out his hand and the kid stopped struggling and slumped dejectedly, then reached into the little belt pouch and slapped something small in Jamie's hand. "Stole something." Morgana frowned. "What is he doing?"

Jamie was in the middle of pointing at the stocks down the street from where they were standing. He had handed the shiny object to the other guard, who stood with his arms crossed in front of the kid, looking as imposing as he could while he stared down at the kid. Jamie's lecture was short, but ended when the kid nodded, his shoulders hunched. The three walked off in the direction they came, passing the stocks, then out of the sight of the observers a few stories up. "Well, I guess the entertainment is done for the day. Back to work, Gwen?"

* * *

Merlin saw Jamie a few hours later in the guard house when he brought down some more of Gaius' bruise balm. He was cleaning a row of snow-damaged boots with a child Merlin didn't know sitting next to him, doing the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgana may be a bit OOC, but I contend that she and Merlin would have been better friends than he and Arthur, because she was less reticent about showing her affection for Gwen than Arthur is for Merlin.  As for the punishment, I see Jamie as having a soft spot for kids, even if he did advocate for putting Ren in the stocks in the Chapter 26.  That was a different situation.  
> 
> Oh, anyone living in the Northeast right now knows where I'm getting the idea of snow this late.  Every single Tuesday for the last month.  Now, I love snow, but this is getting old.  On a good note, my crocuses are out and the seeds I've started inside are almost ready to plant.
> 
> Sorry it's late. I've had a migraine since last Saturday, and have been coming home and crashing after work. Yesterday I did the same, even though this was ready to go.


	41. Chapter Forty-One

**Set at the beginning of the Purge**

The first sorcerer to fall to the Purge was a true criminal. He used his magic to steal little treasures from the merchants, and coins from the drunks of the towns he traveled through. He'd managed to make it through Mercia without being detected by any authorities. His downfall was arriving at Camelot in the midst of the muted celebrations of the young prince's birth. Hearing of the upcoming birth he figured people would be pouring into the city to joyously welcome the heir to the throne. He was right, of course, but he couldn't have predicted that the news of the prince's birth would be overshadowed by the death of the beloved queen.

The celebrations happened, of course, toasts to the little prince and his good health. They were tempered by the true grief the people felt at the loss of Igraine. She'd been a popular queen, much more open to the people than her husband, who was seen as a warrior first, and very determined to keep the classes separate. Igraine had treated everyone with the same level of attention, happily playing with the child of a char woman or gossiping with the baker when she would walk through the city markets as easily as she sat and stitched with her ladies.

The thief who thought to take advantage of a celebratory atmosphere found himself in a city that didn't know whether to sing or cry. His coin was nearly all spent on the journey and he needed to at least make enough money to get to another kingdom where the pickings would be better, so he started to hit the pubs and taverns. Normally this was a good idea. Drunks were never sure if they had spent the coins the thief lifted from their pockets. Too bad for him few of the patrons really felt like tying one on. None of them were as drunk as he thought they'd be.

When he was caught and dragged before the king he thought that he'd never seen a man so wan and drawn with grief. The sight silenced his golden tongue and he stuttered over his words when he tried to deny the charges against him. The fact that he'd been found with the evidence of his thefts in his rented room had pretty much damned him and he expected a stint in the dungeons and maybe some time in the stocks. It was no big deal. It had happened before and it would happen again. No thief was perfect, even one with his particular set of skills. The trick was to never be caught with enough that it would send one to the mines, garner a flogging, or suffer the loss of a hand.

The king's eyes pierced him as he tried to defend himself. He felt as if Uther was staring right into his soul. He had never seen sheer hatred before, especially not directed at him. When the king asked him directly if he had used magic to steal the coins, he shivered. Uther's voice was low, almost too low to carry past the dais. A sense of malice infused the words.

The thief took a deep breath and just bobbed his head in a tiny nod.

"I need to hear the words, thief."

The thief cleared his throat and attempted to answer the king. It took a few tries before he could whisper, "Yes, Your Majesty. I used magic to lift the coin."

"I see." The king turned to the scribe sitting to the side of the throne room. "This is important. Make sure you get it right." Uther stood up from the throne and looked out over the crowd in the throne room. "Any use of magic in the kingdom of Camelot is banned forever upon pain of death. Let this thief serve as a lesson to any evil sorcerers out there." Uther looked down at the thief with an expression of pure disdain. "You will die, thief, for your crimes against my kingdom."

The thief couldn't believe it. He'd only stolen a few coins, not even enough to get him to the next town without stealing more. How could this be happening. He was only supposed to be sent to the stocks or the dungeon. Death? Death wasn't an option, right?

As he knelt there, struck dumb, he heard the shuffle of feet from the side, barely penetrating the rushing sound in his ears. "Sire, surely you're not including healing magic."

"No exceptions, Gaius. All sorcerers must either cease to practice or leave Camelot immediately. This is my decree. Captain, take this trash out of my sight. He will be hanged tomorrow." The king didn't wait for the guard captain to follow his orders, but turned and walked off the dais, heading toward the door behind the throne.

The first sorcerer caught in the Purge died the next morning. A thief of middle years, who hadn't expected any more than a stint in the dungeons, instead fell from a height with a noose around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the episodes said anything about the first sorcerer Uther caught after he decided to get rid of magic.  Here's my take on it.
> 
> I've decided I'm going to officially consider this work complete at 50 chapters. I've been choosing to concentrate more on original stories lately. I will certainly add more chapters to this in the future, but sporadically, when the inspiration strikes me. Besides, I have at least three other multi-chapter Merlin stories I've been slowly working on. Maybe I can finally finish them.


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

**Set about seven or eight years after the Battle at Camlann**

At first the showers of flowers were kind of funny. The little red ladybirds were cute, especially since they'd eat the aphids off the castle roses. The random rainbows were quite pretty. The bubbles were just getting out of hand.

"Merlin! Please control your apprentice."

Merlin frowned. "He's not my apprentice. I don't have an apprentice. I have children who have learned more control than that nincompoop, but that blithering idiot is not my apprentice, Arthur."

"Well, he seems to think he is."

Merlin crossed his arms, mirroring the king's stance. "He's a Druid, that makes him Iseldir's problem, not mine."

Arthur growled at his old friend. "I thought Iseldir sent him here."

"Nope. He came by himself."

"Well, then, send for Iseldir. This is getting out of hand!"

Merlin frowned. "I did. He sent back the message that it was Tyrol's choice to come here and he wouldn't go against that choice."

Arthur's arms waved wildly, "He puts on magic shows every day!" The king started pacing around Merlin's small workroom. "Normally, I'd think this was funny. Hell, it was funny at first, but this is just ridiculous at this point." Arthur cut Merlin off as the warlock began to speak. "He bewitched a rain cloud to follow Sir Lewis for four hours, even inside the castle!"

Arthur glared at Merlin when he heard him chuckle and say, "I thought that was rather clever, actually."

"Regardless if it is clever and you've always had a thing against Sir Pinel's son-" Arthur spoke over Merlin's muttered 'brat', "But he just can't do that. We have laws against malicious magic use."

Merlin shrugged. "Honestly, Arthur, if the worst he's done is shower that little toerag with water, it's a good thing. The little brat never takes a bath. Tyrol probably deserves a reward from the kingdom."

"Merlin."

Merlin threw his hands up. "Fine! I'll talk to him again."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again. I talked to him yesterday before he pulled the stunt with Pinel's brat. He said he'd try better to restrain himself. It's just that he's having fun. He's only fourteen. You and I both did stupid things at that age."

"Merlin, the stupid things we did, or at least, I did, didn't threaten a very fragile peace between magic and non-magic wielders. The next time he pulls a stunt I'm throwing him in the stocks." Arthur left, a scowl affixed to his lightly lined face.

Merlin sighed. Being Emrys was a true pain in the arse sometimes.

* * *

Tyrol was good for a week. One whole week. Well, a week and one day, anyway. The day after that, however, he ran into Sir Pinel's brat again. The two had never hit it off well. Merlin would have compared their relationship to Arthur and his first days, but the simple fact was that Sir Lewis was a slimy, little git who needed to be put in his place. There had been a smidgen of hope for Arthur. Tyrol was just old enough to remember some of the bad times before Arthur had lifted the ban on magic, and he was just young enough to be willing to spit in the eye of authority figures.

As Havard marched the young Druid to the stocks, he tried to keep his face blank. Tyrol went willingly, without even an argument. The same could not be said for Red. His prisoner was spitting mad and struggling for all he was worth. Sir Lewis had decided the little girl Tyrol was helping learn control over her magic was old enough to be taunted and jeered. At first, they tried ignoring the nobleman, but when he picked up a rock and flung it at the girl, Tyrol stopped it with his magic and stared at Sir Lewis for a moment before he flung it back at him, striking him in the chest.

Merlin and Arthur both got involved. The guards brought both of them in front of the court, along with the witnesses to the incident. Once Sir Pinel stopped screeching about his son being deathly injured by a one inch stone the commoners who had been around gave their testimony. Of course, Sir Pinel objected strenuously to any commoners being able to accuse his precious son of any wrong-doing, but the result was the same. Both would be put in the stocks. Tyrol for responding to the aggression of a nobleman likewise with his magic, and Sir Lewis for trying to injure a little girl, commoner or not.

Merlin had to admit, he had enjoyed the bug-eyed look on both SIr Pinel and his brat's faces when Arthur told them the punishment. It was so satisfyingly sweet. He had just started to walk out the throne room doors when Arthur called him back. "But, Arthur, I want-"

"No, Merlin. You'll stay with me until their punishment is over."

"Oh, come on. Do you know how many times that brat threw rocks at me? I just want to watch-"

"Merlin. It's beneath your dignity as Court Sorcerer to be seen out there."

Merlin scowled. "Damn my dignity. I want to see this. Arthur, I deserve to see this."

"Merlin."

"No, Arthur. I-"

"Just come with me, cabbagehead. We can watch the little shit get pelted from my rooms and have a toast to Tyrol while we're at it."

* * *

Tyrol wasn't quite sure who to thank the next day when a package came to the inn he was staying at. It held an expensive, blank journal, and a small set of crystals he could use in his spell-crafting. The tiny piece of paper that came with it only had two small hand-drawn pictures on it: a dragon and a falcon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Pinel's Brat finally gets his due! As a reminder, he was the little brat throwing rocks at Merlin in Chapter 13.


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

**Set at the end of Season 2**

Gaius thought he had seen everything possible in his seventy years of life. He had watched children being born and children dying. He had patched up knights, servants, charcoal makers, and kings. Magic had been his life and then his possible doom. He had seen dragons flying free before the last one was confined away from the blue skies. Gaius thought he was close to retirement and ready to take on one last apprentice to see him through his waning years.

Then Merlin came into his life.

Hunith's letter had been a surprise. Sending Balinor's son to the heart of the court that had seen to his exile and possible demise was the last thing he'd expected his niece to do. When she told him that the boy was intelligent and stifled in the little village of Ealdor, Gaius hadn't known quite what to expect. His niece was one of the best students he'd had during his years as physician and it had been a shame when she'd returned to Ealdor to take care of her parents and her small village.

Merlin was a walking disaster. He managed to scare the liver out of Gaius from the moment he flung himself through the door. Gaius was sure the youth had shaved years off of his life rather than saving it when the railing fell away. Magic in Camelot. What was Hunith thinking? Not even simple hedgewitchery, but full-fledged, sorcery-level magic, wielded by an untried, untrained, impulsive boy with absolutely no filter between a very bright mind and his mouth.

Gaius decided after the boy managed to get himself appointed Arthur's manservant that the gods were testing him. Either that or they were giving him one final chance to help save magic in Camelot. A chance to make up for all of the lives he wasn't able to save during the Purge. Keeping Merlin alive (and by extension, Arthur) long enough to usher in this great age of Albion the legends foretold was proving to be trickier than Gaius had ever imagined.

Treating Merlin's various injuries certainly stretched his memory. Gaius was secretly happy to be able to use his hard-learned knowledge, even if it meant the boy he had become quite attached to had to get hurt for him to use his more obscure remedies. Of course, the moments he found himself thinking that he mentally flagellated himself. Even the simpler injuries from the rough and tumble life Merlin had fallen into as Arthur's manservant were leaving their mark on Merlin's body.

Gaius could only shake his head as he watched Merlin shrug his tunic back onto his body, covering the scars he was picking up. Merlin had just come back from yet another stint in the stocks. Uther hadn't let Gaius patch him up before he shipped him off. Getting in between two of Uther's knights hopped up on a love potion hadn't been Merlin's wisest move, but it had been necessary, even if he'd done so in full view of the king. This particular love potion had been slipped into the knights' water left on the training field on one of the rare occasions the king came down to observe his son's training methods. Merlin and Gaius still hadn't figured out who the target or the culprit was. Merlin was sure it was meant for Arthur, of course, and that made a certain amount of sense. Arthur had been the target of at least two love spells that Gaius knew of in the last few years.

Before the guards managed to lock him in the stocks, Merlin saw and asked Gwen to bring Gaius the rest of the water so the physician could at least figure out what the potion was and the antidote for it. It wouldn't do to let the king know there was some sorcery afoot. While Merlin was vainly dodging cabbage, Gwen had helped Gaius eliminate most of the possible roots of the potion, leaving only four approximate recipes, all of them using an extremely rare herb called Dittany of Crete. Even Gaius' apothecary didn't carry it. Gaius had only used it three times in his own life, it was that expensive and hard to come across.

Merlin left to do some snooping around the court while Gaius brewed up an antidote. Gaius was pretty sure he'd be back in the stocks by the end of the day. Subtlety wasn't the boy's strong suit. At least this potion seemed weak, for all that it used a very potent herb. The potion maker obviously didn't know what they were doing. Gaius could have brewed a much more potent version of it if he'd had the chance. He chuckled to himself as he realized he was wishing he could do just that. Just because.

It had been a long time since he had wanted to just brew potion for the fun of it. Or maybe more accurately, for the sake of pure mischief. It had probably been since the beginning of the Purge. Maybe Merlin was rubbing off on him more than he realized. Mischief was never far from the boy.

Gaius' eyes widened as thinking about childhood mischief made him remember something. Dittany was found on Crete. Lord Chance and his family had just returned from a trip abroad to Galicia to try to establish a trade route. Galicia was a port and fishing country. Surely their coastal markets would have seen trade in rarer herbs, and Lord Chance had a daughter just a few years younger than Merlin who had been promised to a much older and, frankly, repulsive widower who just wanted a pretty, young wife. Even Uther the Unromantic had been surprised when the match had been announced.

The match was a good one politically, though, and the king had allowed it. However, if the Prince fell in love with Lord Chance's daughter, surely Lord Weeder would step aside. Gaius sighed. It looked as if he had to have a heart to heart with a disappointed teen-aged girl.

Gaius was right in his conclusions. Lord Chance's daughter had indeed bought the potion in a market in Galicia. Arthur was supposed to drink it. It was just her bad luck that she neither had the magic or know-how to direct the potion drinker her way, nor that she could figure out another way to convince her father that marrying Lord Weeder was a mistake. Gaius had spent the better part of an hour with the young girl sobbing on his shoulder. He felt bad for her, but there was no way he'd convince her father either. She was destined for a less than happy fate as the mother of three children just slightly younger than she and there was nothing either of them could do.

* * *

It turned out he was right about one other thing, too. Merlin stumbled back into their quarters with even more cabbage stuck on his shirt. Gaius didn't even ask as he just shook his head and went to bed, laughing at his nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my brain decided to stop giving me stuff to work with.  I'm sorry.  I have five or six started Stocks chapters that have gone absolutely nowhere.  That's why this is late.  I also realized I rely heavily on dialogue, so I wanted to try this without any.  Hope it worked.


	44. Chapter Forty-Four

Leon was no fool. He was, after all the only son of two very intelligent people. He knew when to cut and run, even as a seven-year old boy. The stick dropped to the ground as he watched Elyan gaze helplessly at the leather ball flying through the air in a trajectory that would take it right through the expensive glass window on the third floor of his uncle's home. His uncle was insanely proud of that window. Glass was expensive to make and especially to make into windows. "Elyan, run!"

The two boys hoofed it, making it to the corner of the castle right as they heard the crash. They froze and looked at each other with horror in their eyes. Their mothers were going to murder them. That was it. They were done for. They leaned against the outer wall, breathing hard from exertion and panic. "Leon, your uncle-"

"Is going to hang us from out toes in the deepest, darkest, dankest pit he can find." Leon groaned, "I wonder if there's a troupe of players nearby we can run off to."

"It won't matter." The two boys straightened up so fast Leon felt the blood rushing from his head to his toes. "I'd still find you." His uncle was standing in front of them, his arms crossed over the belly that kept expanding further and further every time Leon saw him. The look on his face was unreadable.

"My lord, we were just-" Elyan flushed and shook his head, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry, m'lord," he ended up mumbling.

Leon cringed, "Uncle, it was my fault. I hit the ball."

"But I threw it." Elyan could have kept his mouth shut, but spoke even as he kept his head down.

Leon's uncle said nothing, simply staring both boys down for a good minute, before he snorted and turned to walk away. Neither boy knew how to take that.

"Are we following him?"

"I don't know. I can't tell." Leon watched his uncle walk away for a moment before he called out, "Uncle?"

The man turned, "Are you two still there? Go help clean up the glass while I ready the oubliette."

Leon coughed as Elyan turned an ashen grey, not an excessively good look on someone with his complexion. "You're joking, right, Uncle? Uncle?" His uncle just turned and continued walking away, leaving the boys mildly panic-stricken behind him.

"Leon?"

"I'm sure he was joking. Really. He must have been, right?" Elyan just stared at the young nobleman before him. He'd thought this trip would be all fun and games. He'd been jealous of Gwen always being able to accompany their mother whenever Leon's parents left Camelot. He'd been invited as Leon's companion, even though the boy had never needed one before, after his mother mentioned his envy to Leon's mother. The great lady looked at her maid's children as extensions of her own family and wanted to give Elyan an experience to remember. Well, this was certainly shaping up as that.

Leon waved Elyan forward. "We have to at least help clean it up. Maybe if we do that, Uncle won't try to stick us in the oubliette."

"I didn't even know he had an oubliette."

"Neither did I." The two boys began their trek to the doors so they could help clean up their mess. "Surely mother won't let him put me in one."

"Mine would. We broke his glass window, Leon. Glass. As in, rare and expensive. My parents can't pay for that. Forget your uncle, my mother might just shove me into the oubliette. Dad would melt the lock shut."

"So dramatic, Elyan."

"Glass. Window."

Leon cringed. Elyan was right. Their parents were going to help his uncle murder them.

* * *

All told, the boys got off easy. Both had gotten a few, well-placed swats on the bottom before being sent to their quarters without anything to eat for the rest of the day. They were confined to those quarters for the remainder of the visit unless they were serving out their punishments. The next day they would be in the armory polishing every bit of metal in the place for the whole day. The day after that, they were to be at the disposal of the cook. After that, the master-at-arms, and so on. For the rest of their stay they would be general dogsbodies doing whatever scut work could be found. Gwen mentioned something about the laundresses always needing more help with the type smirk only a younger sibling could master.

Two weeks later, when it was time to return to Camelot, they were absolutely ready to go. Leon was positively eager to go back to his sword lessons while Elyan was thinking longingly of Tom telling him exactly how to forge a certain piece of metal. Leon's uncle was seeing the family off when he called the boys over. He waved one of the servants over and took something from their hand. When he turned around, he presented Leon with the ball that had caused the trouble. "Just so you remember your stay with me."

Leon was pretty certain that wouldn't be a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No stocks today, just punishment for childhood hijinks.  
> 
> The locations used for the show were all modernized castles with glass in the windows that wouldn't have been available in Wales in the very early medieval period, which is when Arthur supposedly lived.  Glass was expensive and I went to a baseball game last night, so this little story was born.


	45. Chapter Forty-Five

In hindsight, putting the two men in the same set of stocks and pillory may have been a mistake. Havard groaned inwardly as he listened to the two continue their argument even while being punished for the brawl that had nearly destroyed a shop. He wondered again why he'd ever come to Camelot. He could be a peaceful farmer right now and never have to deal with drunks, besotted fools, or children disguised as supposed adults. Of course, he hated farming, and he'd never have met his beloved if he'd stayed in his tiny village, so there was that. He'd also made some very good friends, including the brother of one of those children in disguise.

Even having to arrest and guard a couple of idiots was probably worth it in the long run if it meant he didn't have to give up what he'd found in this absolutely bonkers city. Wizards, bandits, guards who became knights, servants who made him shake his head as much as he wanted to hold onto them and not let go. It was never dull in Camelot. Sometimes he had to admit he just wanted to sit down and try to take it all in somewhere quiet and peaceful. As if there was actually such a place here. Look at what was supposed to be the easiest duty of all, monitoring prisoners in the stocks. There was no quiet while these two lovesick fools quarreled on.

Standing just far enough away to be out of splatter range, Havard decided that nothing was as blissful as the brief silence that descended as both men finally noticed the woman giggling and walking with her arm tucked neatly into that of the owner of the chandlery they had tried so hard to destroy with their fight over her attentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Havard, I seem to really like making him uncomfortable. This is set a few years after the Battle at Camlann. There were some things I had to cut out when I finished editing it because they were spoilers for what I really want to do with all of these characters. :(


	46. Chapter Forty-Six

**Set a year after the Purge begins**

It started out small, simply a copper to tide him over until he got paid again. Adam put it back. When he got light he did it again. No one noticed. Then one time, he just didn’t have it to return. He sweated for weeks over it, but then he realized that no one checked his numbers. No one checked to see whether or not a copper was truly spent on new candles for the king’s chambers. It was an eye-opening revelation. Adam could borrow a few coppers; write down a logical but hard to track purchase; and no one would catch him.

At first, after he realized just how easy it would be to embezzle from King Uther, Adam did nothing. In fact, he returned the copper that had sparked his imagination. It was only a month or so later that he decided to move on his realization. He took a copper and marked down that it was to pay for a brace of pheasants for a feast. It was even true that a copper had been paid for a brace of pheasants, but only one when Adam wrote down two. A month after that, when no one had caught his so-called error, he wrote down another extra copper for some leather goods that the king did, indeed, receive.

So, it started small. A copper here and a copper there. He was smart, burying his pilferage in inconsequential expenses. He didn’t spend it all, either. In fact, he spent very little of it. Instead, he tucked each coin in a purse and hid it in a small space in the rafters of his hut. He didn’t live lavishly. He didn’t need to. Adam wasn’t even sure why he wanted the little hoard of coins. He had no wife or children; had never been fortunate enough to find one to have the others. He didn’t eat expensive foods, or drink at the tavern more than occasionally. What he got from the feasts the castle put on for the servants was enough. He decided after a few years that he just liked the security of knowing he had it if he truly needed it.

Eventually, there were six purses hidden in the rafters. Adam was getting on in age. He’d been embezzling from King Uther for over ten years and the man still hadn’t caught on. Adam had seen the birth of the prince and mourned, along with everyone else in the kingdom, the death of the queen. Adam stayed quietly in his little office, counting coins and paying the bills of the kingdom. When the witches and sorcerers started getting rounded up, Adam had no real opinion on the matter. He’d never had much to do with any magic-users. Oh, he had an occasional drink with Sam, the master of the hounds, who had an uncanny knack with the creatures, but when he disappeared the night before he was going to be arrested, Adam only barely noticed.

A year into the Purge, Adam was in his office, contentedly counting up the costs for the latest feast the king was going to hold to celebrate the capture of the Great Dragon. He hadn’t slipped any coins in a while and was keeping one eye open for an expense he could pad when the door opened and Gaius the physician slipped inside the tiny room. “Gaius?”

The robed man’s lips lifted in a tiny smile. “Adam, I need your help, but I’ll need to trust in your discretion.”

“Of course, Gaius. If I can, I will.” The physician had always been kind to Adam.

“I have a hypothetical question for you.” Gaius took a deep breath. “Hypothetically, is there a way for a few coins to go astray from the royal accounting?”

Adam straightened. Did the physician know about Adam’s small cache? Was this his way of blackmailing him? “Hypothetically?”

“Of course. Hypothetically.”

Adam’s mind raced. Gaius had never been dishonest before that Adam knew of. Of course, no one knew of Adam’s own embezzlement, so how could he be sure. “As part of the hypothetical question, what would be the intended use of those hypothetical coins?”

Gaius frowned and remained quiet for a few moments. “Hypothetically speaking, they could be used to help people leave Camelot that have no other recourse.”

Adam sat back. “I see. I assume these people have a pressing need to leave the city, perhaps, one vital to their health?”

Gaius just nodded. Both men knew what the other was talking about. Gaius was helping magic-users escape, but if neither actually said the words, then both were safe in their illegal dealings. Adam took his own deep breath. The plight of the magic-users had never impacted him much. Frankly, he didn’t care enough about them to worry about their trips to the headsman. He did care about money, though. After so many years in charge of the accounts, he felt proprietary over them. He also wanted to protect his own little scheme. “Hypothetically, how much would be necessary?”

“Just enough to get someone over the border into, say, Essetir?”

“Ah. So, about six coppers, then, as I assume the hypothetical trip would also involve a bribe for any border guards.”

Gaius nodded again. “Ceolwald does like to collect taxes from anyone entering his kingdom.”

Adam relaxed in his chair. “Six coppers would be missed. It is too high an amount to, hypothetically, fudge in the accounts in a short period of time.” Gaius slumped where he stood. “But, I think I know of another place that one could, hypothetically, get that.”

Adam had made a decision when he saw Gaius react. He was never going to use all of that money he had hidden away. He’d help Gaius. Not because he cared about the magic-users that Gaius was obviously trying to help escape the king’s clutches, but because he rather enjoyed getting one over on Uther. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been stealing coins here and there for the last decade. This would be the ultimate snub to a man who held nobility as the only important thing in the world. Adam had been slighted by the king many times, and never quite realized how pissed off he was about it until now.

“If you’re still interested in a hypothetical exercise, meet me after dinner tonight in my hut.”

Gaius smiled, the years that had been added just in this last shedding with the hope in his eyes. “Thank you, Adam.”

* * *

That night, Adam handed a small folded square of fabric with ten coppers inside to Gaius. The next morning, the news was spread throughout Camelot that the dreaded Dragonlord Balinor had escaped the dungeons and was on the loose. Adam waited until he was in his tiny office before he let loose the grin he was holding back. He wondered for a moment what his punishment would be if Uther caught him helping Gaius, but then turned his attention to the newest accounting.

Ah, there was a place he could slip away a copper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No actual punishment in this one, just the specter of it.


	47. Chapter Forty-Seven

**Set in Season 3, right before "Gwaine"**

At first, Merlin thought it was a joke. There he was, minding his own business while keeping his head down so the rain of rotten vegetables couldn't poke out his eye, when he saw them. Four of the squires. In their armor. Running up and down the courtyard. It was curious enough that the little hooligans pelting him even stopped to watch the obviously miserable squires. Eventually, Merlin saw Sir Ector standing in the background, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the squires continue their jaunt. For a moment, their eyes met and Sir Ector gave Merlin a jaunty little nod before he whistled sharply. "Back to the training grounds. Double time." With that, the strange little cavalcade of squires and knight ran off. Merlin just closed his eyes as he watched the children line up to resume their previous amusement.

Later that week, Merlin finally had a moment to breathe between running errands for Gaius and Arthur. He found himself outside by the training grounds where he watched Sir Ector training the squires for a bit as he ate his late lunch of bread and fruit begged from Selene while Audrey's back was turned. He watched as they ran off down toward the market again, and waited until they came back. The boys were done in. Once they stopped running they all leaned over, taking deep breaths before they started walking in circles. Sir Ector clouted Lewis on the ear when he tried to sit on one of the benches. "I told you to walk it out, not sit down, else you'll make yourself sick. So, walk. Ten minutes."

"But-"

"Walk, Lewis. Don't make me tell you again." He turned and headed over toward the shady bench where Merlin was eating the last of his peach. "Merlin."

"Sir Ector." Merlin finished the piece of fruit and gave in to his curiosity and asked the squires' training master, "Not that I don't love watching the squires run like they're being chased, but why do you have them running in armor?"

Ector snorted. He'd always gotten a bit of a kick out of Merlin's blunt speech. "Training them. These four need to build up their stamina or they'll be cut to ribbons in their first real fights. I'd prefer they live to fight another day or two."

Merlin nodded. He'd prefer that, too, since one day these squires would be responsible for watching Arthur's back. Thinking of Arthur made him wonder aloud, "Did you do that to the prince, too?"

Ector grinned. "Absolutely."

Merlin grinned back and handed Ector the last plum he'd conned out of Selene. "Wish I'd seen that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I've been under the weather lately and have had a hard time writing. I'm not completely satisfied with it, but it feels done.
> 
> There had to be squires and people to train them, right?


	48. Chapter Forty-Eight

**Set after the Battle at Camlann in my AU, but before Arthur has managed to decriminalize magic.**

Sometimes when Merlin got bored, his magic decided to make things interesting for him. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't exactly the best thing to happen in a kingdom where magic was outlawed. This time, Merlin decided he would just blame Gwaine. It was all his fault. It had to be. He was the one to put the idea in Merlin's head, after all. Yes, absolutely. If it wasn't for Gwaine mentioning the fact that he was sometimes sick of seeing nothing but red cloaks, then none of them would have turned rainbow and parti-colored.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"I thought we discussed you keeping your magic under wraps until I was able to legalize it."

Merlin shrugged and held up his hands, "It's Gwaine's fault?"

The tic in Arthur's eye held a distinct resemblance to one he recalled seeing on Uther at times. It was quite fascinating to watch, even if it did throw his mind back to unhappier times. He could practically see Arthur trying to count to keep his temper and not whack his poor manservant slash secret court sorcerer upside the head. "And why is it Gwaine's fault? Not that it would be hard to believe, but he doesn't have any bloody magic."

"He sort of mentioned that the Pendragon colors were a bit, well, monochromatic, and that he'd love to see others once in a while. I guess I was thinking of that when I got a bit bored, and well, see, it's all Gwaine's fault." Merlin tried donning his most innocent expression. Arthur didn't look convinced.

"Maybe it's mine because you're just not busy enough if you can get bored enough for your magic to just spontaneously do something insane?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"No?" Arthur crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Merlin try to figure out the best way to stay out of trouble. Merlin almost felt like he was a bug in someone's collection, just being stared at.

"Look, I'm sure I can fix this. Just give me a bit of time to talk to Gaius and we can figure something out." The staring continued unabated. "I will fix it, Arthur. I swear." Merlin backed up slowly out of the training yard, keeping his eyes on the king. When he nearly tripped over one of the benches, he felt it might be the best time to turn and run.

* * *

It took two days for Gaius, Geoffrey, and Merlin to find the solution to the problem. By that time, of course, Arthur had found other cloaks for the knights that had been on the training field to wear. The only stubborn one was, of course, Gwaine, who decided he really liked his new cloak and wore it whenever Arthur and Leon weren't nearby. When Merlin finally went around to gather up all of the affected cloaks, Gwaine's somehow went missing. He grinned at his friend as he gestured for Merlin to come inside and take a look around if he liked. Merlin just rolled his eyes and walked away from Gwaine's chambers without his cloak. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

An hour later and Merlin presented all of the cloaks to Arthur, dropping the basket on his desk with what he thought was a bit of flair. "Here you go, Arthur. Nine de-rainbowed cloaks."

"Weren't there ten of us?"

"Oh, yeah." Merlin paused for a moment before he shrugged and barreled on. "Gwaine has no clue what he did with his, so I just left him with the replacement you'd gotten for him."

"I see." Arthur sat in his chair, leaning against the arm as he stared Merlin in the eyes. "Gwaine lost a parti-colored, rainbow cloak somewhere?"

"Apparently."

Arthur took a deep breath and gestured to the basket. "You may go. Send one of the maids in here to get these cloaks back to their owners." With that he leaned forward and concentrated on the paper in front of him, dismissing Merlin.

"That's it?"

Arthur looked up and arched a brow, "Did you need something else? Don't you have other duties to attend?"

Merlin pursed his lips, trying to parse Arthur's words to avoid the pitfall he was sure hid in them. "Yes, Sire, I do." He bowed his head and turned away, hoping to get to the door quickly.

Just as he touched the handle, he heard the trap spring. "Oh, and Merlin, you and Gwaine are cleaning the stables for the next two days."

Merlin rested his head on the closed door. There were times when it was worth arguing and there were times it wasn't. This was definitely one of the latter, so he just mumbled, "Yes, Sire." before he lifted his head, pulled the door open and went to find Gwaine. He absolutely didn't look behind him because he knew exactly what he'd see: a smug prat smirking behind his desk because he'd gotten to punish Merlin, and as a bonus, Gwaine. Well, at least he'd have company in his misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late again, sorry. I have three that I was working on and this was the only one that finally went anywhere.
> 
> Just so everyone knows: I'm going to officially call this story complete at 50 chapters. I'm sure I will add to it eventually, so if you choose to add it to your alerts, you'll probably get a surprise in the future. It's (obviously) been getting harder to write anything fresh for it, so I want to concentrate on the longer stories I've started but keep neglecting in favor of this. I figure 50 chapters is a good, round number.
> 
> Also, this one started because I threw a certain Merwaine fan some prompts which then fed back into my brain. I blame Nebula5030.


	49. Chapter Forty-Nine

**Set the year between Seasons 3 and 4; Arthur is Prince Regent**

Merlin was still unclear about what he did to be put in the stocks today. Sure, he'd slept in just a bit, but Arthur didn't have to do anything but paperwork and training today. There were no Council meetings. No visits from annoying envoys. Uther was even having a couple of good days. Usually Arthur was ridiculous about getting out of bed so Merlin figured he'd enjoy the extra half-hour of sleep. Of course, Arthur had to be contrary and get upset.

So, here was Merlin, stuck in the stocks for an hour, and with a list of chores that Arthur had set him that would take until well into the evening to complete. It wasn't as if there weren't other servants in the castle who could accomplish some of them. Merlin had enough to do with writing speeches, cleaning, and just generally looking after the stupid prat's well-being.

Thankfully, it was just a shade too cold for people to really be lingering outside, so no one had thrown anything at him in the fifteen minutes he'd been stuck here. Merlin sighed. The only way he was going to get everything done in time to have dinner with Gaius was if he used magic. He was going to have to skip lunch, even. Arthur really was a pain in Merlin's ass sometimes. Merlin decided he was going to have a lot of fun waking the prat up the next time he had to. He was going to forego his normal, gentler means and go straight to dragging his Royal Ass out of the bed and onto the cold floor. It would be fun.

Another fifteen minutes passed with Merlin contemplating the little ways he could make Arthur as miserable as he was at the moment. He was just getting to the point where he would not bother using his magic to heat Arthur's bath water when he heard Gwen calling the guard to release Merlin. "The prince said to let him out. He's been in there long enough."

Red nodded and unlocked the chain holding Merlins wrists together. "Here you go, Merlin. Go get something warm to drink."

"Thanks, Red." Merlin rubbed his wrists as he walked toward the castle with Gwen. "He let me out early?"

Gwen's lips pressed together and she merely hummed. Merlin had seen that look in her eyes before. It was usually right before she went off on some poor, unsuspecting person who thought that because she was so sweet and gentle that she had no temper. Actually, he'd seen Elyan get that look a lot in the time he'd come back to Camelot.

"Gwen? Are you aright?"

"Am I alright? Merlin, you were just in the stocks and you're worried about me?" Gwen whirled on Merlin. "Are you mad?"

Merlin shrugged, "I'll admit it's been a while since I had to stand there, but it's not hard to get used to again. And no one threw anything at me today. That was good." Merlin took Gwen's hands and squeezed them gently. "Really, I'm fine. I'm just going to make sure Arthur is woken up really early for the next few days."

Gwen looked at Merlin in disbelief. Then her expression slowly turned a bit sly and finally a smile blossomed across her face as she started to snort and giggle. She shook her head and tugged at her hands in Merlin's, "Come on, let's go do some of those chores on that list he gave you."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know, but I'm off today and I want to help."

"You're amazing. I promise I will do something in return if Arthur ever gives me a day off."

Gwen snorted. "I won't hold my breath in hope."

* * *

The two of them were able to get through most of the list by lunchtime. Merlin groaned when he thought of fetching the prince's lunch. "Really not sure I want to deal with him right now. I'm still a bit annoyed at him."

Gwen bit her lip. "I could bring it to him while you finish hanging the laundry."

"Done. While you're at it, give him one of those nasty looks you had this morning. It'll scare him silly."

Gwen grinned as she left the laundry room to go fetch Arthur's lunch. "I'll be back in a bit. Don't go anywhere."

"Where the hell would I go?" Merlin asked the busy laundresses. "I have two baskets of laundry to finish." One of these days Merlin would figure out why Arthur didn't just have the laundresses, experts in not turning anything pink or shrinking them by accident, do his laundry. Merlin suspected it was simply a way for Arthur to torture his poor manservant. The laundresses just shrugged and went back to their own work. Occasionally, one of the older ones, Mae, took pity on him and helped him if all of her work was done. Since Merlin tended to put laundry off until it was slightly overwhelming, he appreciated the help.

Merlin was nearly done when Gwen came back. There was a flush on her face that meant one of two things: either Gwen and Arthur had argued, or Gwen and Arthur had snogged. At the moment, Merlin wasn't sure which he preferred. He was annoyed with Arthur, so would love to hear Gwen give him a piece of her mind, but doing that put Gwen in a foul mood, and he hated seeing his best friend miserable. He took the trousers Gwen handed him silently and pinned them over the line in the warm room where clothes went to dry. "You alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine." Gwen's eyes were a bit unfocused. Snogging, it was, then. If it had been arguing, she would have had The Look on her face.

"Better than fine, eh?"

"What?" Gwen flushed even deeper when she got Merlin's meaning. "Oh, shut up, Merlin."

He chuckled. "You're even starting to sound like him."

Gwen whapped him with one of the tunics they'd washed earlier. It didn't stop his chuckles.

* * *

By dinnertime, the entire list was done. "You are a true lifesaver, Gwen. What would I do without you?"

"Probably sit in the stocks tomorrow because there was no way any one person could finish that list in one day."

Merlin shrugged. "At least the stables weren't on it. I'm going to count my blessings."

The two were sitting on one of the benches in the hallway outside the kitchens, waiting for Arthur's dinner to be put together. Merlin hadn't seen him all day and figured it was better if he delivered it than Gwen. He was still a bit annoyed with Arthur, but an entire day spent with one of his favorite people was mostly enough to make up for the rotten start to the day.

Selene poked her head out the door. "Merlin? It's ready."

"Thanks, Selene." Merlin turned to Gwen and grinned. "Let's see if he's in a better mood now. Want to join Gaius and I for dinner tonight?"

Gwen shook her head and gave him a hug. "No, thanks, Merlin. I have plans with my brother. Go give Arthur his dinner and try not to brain him with the platter. We sort of need him."

"Do we? I thought we and the knights did all of the work."

"You're bad. Don't let him hear you say that or you'll spend the entire week cleaning the stables."

Merlin shrugged and went to get the tray with Arthur's dinner on it. By the time he was out of the kitchen, Gwen was gone. Merlin hefted the heavy tray and grunted as he started down the hallway. It was heavier than usual. Merlin snorted as he thought about having to make another hole in Arthur's belt. This job of being Prince Regent meant way too many feasts and way too little actual exercise. Merlin was going to have to goad Arthur into sparring more often with Sir Leon if he was going to keep eating like this.

He nodded to the guards on duty at Arthur's door. Nick was there this time and he grinned as he opened the door for Merlin. "Better get in there. Heard him cursing about something."

"Great. What did I do now?"

Nick just shrugged as he held the door wide enough for Merlin to get through. Merlin saw Arthur sitting at his desk, ignoring the servant as he walked in. Merlin put the tray on the table and started to lift the napkin Selene had covered it with. "Merlin!"

Merlin turned toward the prince. "Yes, Arthur?"

"Come here. Fiddle with that later."

Merlin sighed and let the napkin drop before he walked over to the desk. "Did you get everything on the list finished?"

"Is that all you wanted to ask me? Yes, Arthur, it's all finshed. Gwen helped."

"Gwen helped. I thought today was her day off."

"It was. Nice of you to give her one, by the way. If that gives you any ideas about one for me, feel free to entertain them." Merlin started walking back to the table. He was annoyed enough that he just wanted to get Arthur's dinner served so he could go to his chambers and eat his own.

"Merlin!"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"I said to get over here."

Merlin stopped in the middle of the room and held out his arms, "If all you want to do is yell at me, then I can be yelled at while I'm getting your dinner ready."

Arthur grinned. It wasn't his usual smirky grin. It was an actual 'I'm very amused' grin. "Merlin, come here. Please."

Please. Arthur almost never said please. Merlin slowly walked back to the desk, alert for the trap he was sure was about to spring on him. Arthur stood and put his hands on Merlin's shoulders. Over the years they'd grown to practically the same height. "Yes, Arthur?" Merlin asked hesitantly.

"Merlin, I just have one thing to say to you right now."

Merlin tensed. Arthur didn't look angry. He looked pleased. That wasn't always a good thing for Merlin.

"Alright-"

Merlin nearly jumped out of skin when the door to the servant's quarters he never used burst open and all of his friends tumbled out, joining Arthur when he yelled, "Happy Birthday!"

"What? But-"

Merlin was crowded by the knights, Arthur, Gaius, and Gwen, all speaking over each other as they tried to hug him or slap him on the shoulder. Gaius, Gwen, Gwaine, and Lancelot all hugged him tight, laughing at his surprise. "How did you arrange all of this?" Merlin asked Gwen.

She grinned. "I didn't. Arthur did."

"But this morning, the stocks-"

Gwen's grin turned into a momentary frown and she glared at her lover, "He was only supposed to give you enough of a list to keep you busy for a few hours while everyone got everything together."

Arthur shrugged. 'You woke me up later than I had anticipated and I threw out the first thing that my mind came up with since it put me off schedule. Sorry, Merlin."

Merlin chuckled. Now things made sense. A lot of the other servants had been grinning around him today for no particular reason. Gwen had a day off. Arthur's foul mood for being left to sleep in. All of those chores. "You're amazing, you two. Thank you."

"Wonderful. Arthur and Gwen are brilliant, but I've been promised some honey cakes, Merlin, and you have gifts to open." Gwaine slung his arm around Merlin's shoulders and led him to the table, with suddenly had more trays on it, not just the one he'd brought up. Merlin watched Elyan come out of the small antechamber with a tray of mugs and some sort of ale. On the end of the table was a pile of gifts, wrapped in fabric. Merlin went to the presents first and started opening them, grinning at the choices his friends had made for him.

After the presents were all opened and everyone had probably had a just a bit too much of the very fine ale Gwaine had arranged to be delivered by Jack's father, Merlin sat, leaning against the chair by the fireplace. He held a mug in his hand as he listened to Gwaine tell one improbable story of his travels after another. Arthur was in the chair, a mug in his own hand as he laughed at his knight, and the other hand resting on Merlin's shoulder. The day may have started out cold, grey, and miserable, but it had turned out to be the best birthday Merlin had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go and The Stocks are "officially" complete. I want to make these good, so I'm trying to make them longer than my normal stories. Again, keep the story subscribed. I know I'll add more in the future, just not on any schedule. They'll be a surprise!


	50. Chapter Fifty

**Set immediately after The Diamond of The Day, Part 2; some scenes in the episode either didn't occur, or they were slightly different.  I'm sure you can figure out which.**

"Your Majesty, it's time." Leon approached the queen slowly, standing behind her as she looked over the battlements in the vague direction of Camlann. Gwen had been quiet the last few days since Eira’s execution. She'd sent out as many search parties as she dared with Camelot's depleted manpower and Morgana still on the loose. After Percival returned with Gwaine, they had pulled the others back, since none were turning up any sign of her husband or her best friend.

Gwen turned and smiled wanly at the First Knight. She knew she had to do this, but she still felt it was premature. She still didn't fell like Arthur was dead, just unforgivably delayed. She nodded and took one last look in the direction of the battlefield before she stepped toward the throne room.

* * *

Two days later, Gwen visited Gaius for some headache powders. She'd stepped into Arthur's shoes on a temporary basis before, but this was different. All the older nobles on the Council were already pushing her to remarry. They claimed it was for her own protection, but strangely enough the men they were all suggesting were either relations or, in some way, obligated to them. Gwen had finally called a halt to the blatant attempts to take over the throne by threatening to exile from the court the next Council member who so much as suggested a wedding before she'd been able to properly mourn Arthur's loss.

"Seriously, Gaius, the must think I'm an idiot who can't see through their ploys. I may not have been born or raised a noble, but I saw the truth of these men long ago. They don’t hide their selfish motives from the servants because they don’t matter to them.” Gwen rubbed her temples. Hiding in Gaius’ chambers was her best chance to get away from the leeches. At this point, she’d rather deal with the actual leeches in the tank Merlin hated so much.

Thinking of that stupid leech tank brought Merlin to her mind. She could look through the door to his room and see the tank near the bed occupied by a catatonic Gwaine. Gwen wasn’t the only person to lose loved ones in the battle. Gaius had lost the son of his heart. Merlin was still missing. Her husband, and her best friend were just gone. She stood up suddenly. “I’m going to sit with Gwaine. Has there been any change yet?”

“No, Majesty.” Gaius shook his head sadly, “I’m afraid he’s still locked in whatever torture Morgana put him through. I think he would have died from it if Percival hadn’t found him when he did, but I can’t get rid of the poison shrouding his mind. It would take a stronger magic than I ever had. Maybe Merlin can if … when he returns.”

She smiled, bit her lip, and nodded. “When, Gaius. When. We’ll get one of them back, surely.” Gwen sat next to the man who had become one of Arthur’s most loyal knights, for all that he lived to irritate his “Princess”, and held his hand while she silently let the tears she only shed in these chambers fall.

Lady Sunny found her there a short time later. Leon’s mother had been indispensable each time before that Gwen had taken over for Arthur, but this time she had proven herself a treasure beyond measure. She wore a simple day dress today with her greying red hair bound up with the favorite faded green ribbon she’d had for years. Gwen was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the great lady sit on Merlin’s bed until she laid her hand over the one holding Gwaine’s. “Gwen, it’s time for lunch.” Lady Sunny had been given standing orders years before to not refer to Gwen with an honorific if they were alone or among friends. The woman had helped raise her, after all. Grand titles seemed silly to be used by someone who had changed your diapers when you were a child and swatted your behind.

“Thank you, Sunny. I’m really not hungry, though.”

Sunny smiled gently, “I know, dear, but you have to eat. So do I, so you’re going to eat with me. Come on.” She untangled Gwen’s hand from Gwaine’s and pulled the queen out of her chair.

Gwen let her, too tired emotionally to protest. Sunny closed the door to Merlin’s chamber after them, leaving it partly open so Gaius could still keep an eye on the knight inside. Gaius nodded at Sunny. He’d been the one to send for her, knowing Gwen wouldn’t argue with her as she would with so many others. The two women were nearly at the door when it was pushed open and Leon tumbled through. “Gaius!” He got out of the way of a bedraggled Merlin supporting one side of an unconscious Arthur with Percival propping up the other side of the king.

“Arthur!” The king’s name was called by both Gwen and Gaius, Gaius following it up with “Merlin, Percival, get him on the cot.” The healer leaned down on one side of the prone king after the two men had laid him down. “Merlin, did the Sidhe heal him?”

Merlin took a deep breath, “To an extent, yes. They saved his life and removed the sword fragment, healing him well enough for me to get him here, but he’s still got injuries. I tried treating the remaining fever as we traveled, but there are still pockets of Saxons about to avoid. We couldn’t move quickly, I’m sorry.” He collapsed into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. “I think it’s mostly time and rest that he needs now, to recover, but there is still a slight fever. The wound is closing, but doesn’t look bad. I couldn’t smell or see anything off anyways, no gangrene or anything.”

Gaius lifted the tunic and mail from Arthur’s wound to examine it. He looked up when his gentle prodding elicited a groan from the king. Arthur’s eyes fluttered open and he looked straight into Gaius’. “Your majesty, I told you Merlin would take care of you.”

Arthur snorted a bit, “He brought me to some bloody, nasty fairies. And a dragon. I know there was a dragon.” His eyes wandered over and he saw Gwen standing with her hands clasped in front of her mouth, tears shining in her eyes. “My fair Guinevere.”

“Arthur.” Gwen knelt on the floor next to her husband, heedless of the fabric of her dress. She took his hand. “You certainly took your time getting home from battle, my lord.”

“I’m sorry, my dear. Merlin took me on a tour of the kingdom. There was a dragon. Did I mention that?”

Merlin groaned. “Seriously, Arthur. Must you keep going on about the dragon?”

“Well, given the fact that I supposedly killed him, and he was right there talking to you, yes.”

“Gwen, make him stop.” Merlin pleaded with his friend to distract her husband, “Kiss him or something just to make him stop talking about Kilgarrah.”

Arthur smiled at his wife, “Or just kiss me anyway because I’ve missed you.” He winced when Gaius poked a very tender spot.

“Oh, you are impossible, Arthur.” Gwen leaned over her husband and gave him a gentle kiss, pulling back when he would have deepened it. “More when you feel better. Incentive to get well,” she whispered in his ear. Arthur grinned a bit dopily and let his eyes close, falling asleep in a few heartbeats. “Gaius?” she asked, concerned about how quickly Arthur had passed out.

Gaius shook his head. “Nothing to worry about. He’s weak and still suffering a bit of fever. Merlin’s diagnosis was spot-on. We’re going to have to make sure he’s comfortable and gets plenty of rest.” Gaius stood up. “I have some medicines that will help strengthen him.” He shuffled off to the cabinet that held some of his more potent medicines to find one that would help Arthur.

Merlin leaned back in the chair he was occupying, “Speaking of rest, Percival, want to drag me to my bed? I can’t move.” Merlin opened his eyes after he realized none of the others in the room were speaking or even moving. He saw them all looking at each other nervously. “What is it?”

The others all looked at Gwen expectantly. None of them, not even Lady Sunny, wanted to be the one to tell Merlin about the knight currently in a bad way. “It’s Gwaine, Merlin. He’s in your bed right now. He ran into Morgana and she tortured him with something.”

Merlin blanched, his normally pale complexion going sheet-white at her words. “Gwaine?”

“Gaius thinks it’s some kind of venom. He found bite marks. He called it a nathair. The same thing she used on Elyan.” Leon darted a quick look at Gwen. All of her friends were careful when mentioning her brother around her.

Merlin frowned, “But Elyan got better.”

Gaius had come close enough to hear their conversation, “I don’t believe Elyan was given as high a dosage of venom as Gwaine. I found many more bite marks on Gwaine than I did Elyan. The torture must have been unbearable. I think he’s still locked inside it.” Gaius measured out a potion on a spoon and opened Arthur’s mouth so he could dribble it in his mouth. “You’ll have to remove the poison, my boy. I don’t have the power to.”

“Gaius, I-” Merlin realized what his foster father and Arthur had said and who was around and his eyes went wide. “Gaius-” he choked out.

Gwen patted his knee, “We all know, Merlin. About your magic. Don’t worry.”

“It explains a lot.” Leon added.

Percival just grinned and shrugged, “I’d figured it out years ago.”

Lady Sunny smiled gently at the manservant and shook her head, “I’ve known you too long now to believe there’s a wicked bone in your body, my boy. Besides, if you wanted to hurt us, you’ve had seven years to do it.”

Merlin slumped in his chair, relief making him weak. “I’ve hated keeping it a secret.” He sat straight as he looked toward the door to his room. “I’m going to go check on Gwaine.” He stood up and took a step toward his room before he turned around and knelt down to give Gwen a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Gwen knew it was because she had accepted him and his magic. Merlin had always been both strong and surprisingly fragile at the same time. Now Gwen knew why. He had been hiding a secret that he was sure would have them all hating him if they found out. Gwen returned the hug and squeezed him hard around the middle. “Thank you for bringing my husband home. And yourself. Don’t ever go missing like that again or you’ll be in big trouble.”

Merlin pulled back and smiled, “The stocks?”

“Worse, I’ll make you wash all of the knights’ dirty socks.”

Merlin grinned at his best friend and queen, “Now, that’s just being mean.”

Gwen laid her head on his shoulder for a few moments, one arm around him and her hand holding her husband’s while she knelt on the floor in Gaius’ quarters. Gwaine was still in a coma. The kingdom would have to get used to the idea that the king they had just declared dead was no longer dead, but was also not going to be running around with a sword for the foreseeable future. Merlin had magic, and they’d have to deal with the fact that the king’s best friend was a sorcerer at some point. There were still Saxons running around the kingdom. Camelot would have to rebuild their army so their more martial neighbors wouldn’t get any ideas that it was ripe for the plucking.

But Arthur was back, and so was Merlin. Merlin would be able to help Gwaine, Gwen was sure of that. Leon and the other knights were more than capable of keeping the kingdom safe while Arthur and the rest of the other injured recovered. The people of Camelot were strong and resilient.

Gwen wasn't jumping for joy right now, but she was happy and hopeful. She had her husband, her best friend, and hope for the future of Camelot and their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, the "end". I want to thank all of you who have accompanied me on this journey. It's been a blast and I've had fun even when struggling to write something I thought was good enough to publish.
> 
> I know that no one actually ended up getting punished here, but I really wanted to call back to the first, accidental, chapter of this story. Besides, this way I got to rewrite the end of the last episode like I've been wanting to, and I got to have Gwen threaten Merlin with punishment. :D


	51. Chapter Fifty-One: Camelot Drabble 340

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin takes advantage of a situation that presents itself.

It was amazing how noisy Camelot could become at feast time.  Merlin was used to the background sounds of a normal day. With so many people rushing into the city to celebrate Summer Solstice, the addition of that many voices laughing, and animals braying, made visits to the market nearly unbearable.  What did make it bearable was seeing Morris and Jack displayed in all their misery in the stocks.

 

“So, boys, what did you do this time?”

 

Morris looked up, the remnants of some unknown vegetable dripping from his hair into his eyes.  “Hello, Merlin,” he replied dully.

 

“We didn’t do anything, Merlin.  It was Eric and Thomas.” Jack’s expression was mulish.

 

“Mm-hmm.”  Merlin grinned.  “Pull the other leg.”

 

Morris looked over at Jack.  “You know he’s not going to believe you, right?  This is Merlin.”

 

“Oh, shut up, Morris.”  Jack’s shoulders slumped as well as they could in his odd position.  “So we played a _tiny_ prank on my father.  I didn’t expect him to do this.”

 

Merlin laughed.  “It was probably all in the timing, Jack.  Pranking your father two days before Solstice celebrations?  You’re lucky he didn’t have the king put you in the dungeons for a day.  As it is, he’ll need you to help deliver all the beer and cider for the celebrations.”

 

“I know.”  Jack couldn’t sound more miserable if he tried.  “He even arranged with the Sergeant of the Guards that we’ll be working for them during the celebrations.”

 

Morris nodded.  “We’re actually going to miss the feasts.  It’s unfair.”

 

Merlin grinned.  “Sorry, boys, but I’ll be serving at it.  I have no sympathy for you.” He caught some motion out of the corner of his eye and saw one of the undercooks arriving with a basket.  He chuckled evilly. “Looks like the cook just arrived with some more veg for you.”

 

Morris and Jack both groaned.  The teens closed their eyes and sighed at the same time.  Jack looked up at Merlin. “If you convince the cooks not to bring any more veg out, I’ll make sure you get a flagon of my father’s best cider delivered to you and Gaius.”

 

“Make it a half gallon and you have a deal.”  Merlin nodded his head toward the undercook. “Can’t do anything about that, though.”

 

Jack thought hard for a moment, then nodded.  “Deal. No more veg after that.”

 

Merlin left after wishing the boys luck.  He was finished with his shopping list and if he could get a half gallon of cider for doing nothing more than actually trying to charm the undercook, then it would definitely be worth his while to detour toward the kitchens.  Gaius would appreciate the gift. Maybe if Arthur was being good, Merlin would even give him some.

 

He caught sight of the undercook making her way back to the citadel.  “Evie! Hold up.”

 

She looked back at the sound of Merlin’s voice and paused, waiting for him to catch up.  “Merlin.”

 

“Can I carry that for you?”  

 

She looked down at the empty basket.  “It’s empty, Merlin. It weighs nothing.  But thank you.” She peered at him suspiciously.  Evie had six children and five grandchildren. Nothing ever got past her.  “What do you want?”

 

He chuckled.  “I need you to not bring any more veg out to be used on Morris and Jack.  If I can make sure of that, then Jack has promised me a half-gallon of his father’s best cider.”  He nodded, “Knowing Jack, it won’t be his father’s best and it won’t be right away, but I’d love to give whatever I get to Gaius.  He’s been working so hard with the recent outbreaks of pox.”

 

“Tell you what, Merlin.  You give me a flagon of it for me and my man, and I’ll make sure they’re veg-free.”  Evie smiled. “Even some of Master Ioan’s worst cider is worth it.”

 

“Wonderful!  Evie, you are simply the best.  If you weren’t so happily married, I’d ask you myself.”

 

“Go on with you, you little charmer.”  Evie slipped her arm through the one Merlin offered and they walked back together through the market, catching up on her grandchildren’s latest escapades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my submission for Camelot Drabble, Prompt 340, Noisy


End file.
